And little eagles wave their wings in gold.

And little eagles wave their wings in gold.

King of the peak and glacier,
King of the cold, white scalps,
He lifts his head at read more

King of the peak and glacier,
King of the cold, white scalps,
He lifts his head at that close tread,
The eagle of the Alps.

So, in the Libyan fable it is told
That once an eagle, stricken with a dart,
Said, read more

So, in the Libyan fable it is told
That once an eagle, stricken with a dart,
Said, when he saw the fashion of the shaft,
"With our own feathers, not by others' hand
Are we now smitten."

For wheresoever the carcase is, there will the eagles be gathered
together.

For wheresoever the carcase is, there will the eagles be gathered
together.

The eagle suffers little birds to sing,
And is not careful what they mean thereby.

The eagle suffers little birds to sing,
And is not careful what they mean thereby.

He clasps the crag with hooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the read more

He clasps the crag with hooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls:
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.

Like a young eagle, who has lent his plume
To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom,
read more

Like a young eagle, who has lent his plume
To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom,
See their own feathers pluck'd, to wing the dart,
Which rank corruption destines for their heart!

The eagle suffers little birds to sing,
And is not careful what they mean thereby,
Knowing that read more

The eagle suffers little birds to sing,
And is not careful what they mean thereby,
Knowing that with the shadow of his wings
He can at pleasure stint their melody:
Even so mayest thou the giddy men of Rome.

So the struck eagle, stretched upon the plain,
No more through rolling clouds to soar again,
Viewed read more

So the struck eagle, stretched upon the plain,
No more through rolling clouds to soar again,
Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart,
And wing'd the shaft that quivered in his heart.