And shivers ev’ry feather with surprise;
So comes our chorister—the summer’s ray,
Around her nest, call’d forth a short essay;
Now trembling on the brink, with fear she sees
This unknown clime, nor dares to trust the breeze.
But here, no unfledg’d wing was ever crush’d;
Be each rude blast within its cavern hush’d.
Soft swelling gales may waft her on her way,
Till, eagle-like, she eyes the fount of day:
She then may dauntless soar, her tuneful voice