The Eagle, he was lord above
Yet sometimes, when the secret cup Of still and serious thought went round, It seemed as if he drank it up, He felt with spirit so profound.
Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods.
Look at the fate of summer flowers, which blow at daybreak, droop ere even-song.
A genial hearth, a hospitable board, and a refined rusticity.
Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice; The confidence of reason give, And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live!