Oft in the glassy tide the stars I view,
And that blue heav'n the waves give back anew.
And dim regret recalls me to the home
In higher spheres, reluctant whence I roam!
THE EAGLE.
With joy, from the hour that my young life begun,
I have soared to the skies—I have gazed on the sun.
I can not stoop down to the dust of the earth—
Allied to the gods, I exult in my birth!
THE SWAN.
When a calm death succeeds to tranquil life,
Its links detaching without pain or strife,
And to my voice restores its primal power,
Its dying tones shall hail the solemn hour!
THE EAGLE.
The soul, like the phoenix, springs forth from the pyre,
All free and unvailed, to the skies to aspire,
To hail the bright vision that bursts on its view,
And its youth at the dark torch of death to renew!