Lift thy glance! the fiery sun
There his pride of place hath won!
And the mountain lark is there,
And sweet sound hath fill’d the air;
Hast thou left that realm on high?
—Oh! it can be but to die!
Eagle! eagle! thou hast bow’d
From thine empire o’er the cloud!
Thou, that hadst etherial birth,
Thou hast stoop’d too near the earth,