And presently a Turtle-Dove
Alighted on a myrtle-bough anear.
He saw the Eagle droop his kingly head;
He saw tear after tear
Fall from his eyes into the dark rill under,
And sentiments of Pity, blent with Wonder,
Troubled his tender breast. My friend, he said,
Thou grievest! What has made thee grieve?
Thou showest thy wing—Ah! thou art maimed for life!
Well! what of that? Thou shouldst rejoice to leave