My falcon now is sharp and passing empty,
And till she stoop she must not be full-gorged,
read more

My falcon now is sharp and passing empty,
And till she stoop she must not be full-gorged,
For then she never looks upon her lure.

Say, will the falcon, stooping from above,
Smit with her varying plumage, spare the dove?
Admires the read more

Say, will the falcon, stooping from above,
Smit with her varying plumage, spare the dove?
Admires the jay the insect's gilded wings?
Or hears the hawk when Philomela sings?

On Tuesday last
A falcon, now tow'ring in her pride of place,
Was by a mousing owl read more

On Tuesday last
A falcon, now tow'ring in her pride of place,
Was by a mousing owl hawked at and killed.