240 
THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY 
On the scathed limb of an ancient oak, 
He had taken his lofty stand, 
And ther ce he looked down where wreaths of smoke 
Gave tokens of cultured land. 
And away and away did his gaze extend 
O’er the ocean’s waters blue, 
And he heard the roar on the distant shore 
Where the snow-white sea gulls flew. 
He had perched his nest on that mountain’s brow, 
In the eye of the glorious sun, 
And he looked on the face of the day-king now, 
As for many long years he had done. 
He had seen his eaglets thence go forth 
To the chase of the hawk on the sea, 
He had sailed on the icy- winged blast of the North, 
And screamed as he rode it with glee. 
Long years had he dwelt on that mountain height, 
And sailed o’er that ocean’s gloom, 
When the morning was bright, or the blackness of night 
Made darker the tempest’s plume. 
Long years had he stood by that roaring flood, 
And that rock was his kingdom’s throne, 
By the storm-rent oak his decree he spoke, 
And his will was his law alone. 
Even now he sat on that oak so bare, 
Majestic and proud and free, 
The emblem at once, and the glorious heir 
Of nature’s liberty. 
He sat with his noble wings outspread 
For a flight o’er the sunny land, 
And he launched thro’ the air like an arrow that’s sped 
From a practised archer’s hand. 
Away deep down to the scene below 
He flew on fearless wing, 
And he paused where a waterfall turned into snow 
The stream of a woodland spring. 
Ah ! bird of royalty ! sad for thee 
To have left thy mountain height, 
Where thy way was un watched, and thy wing was free, 
And none to arrest thy flight. 
For the hunter has marked thy downward course, 
And fixed on thee his eye — 
And has lifted his gun to the noon-day sun, 
And said that thou shalt die. 
A flash — a roar — the Eagle rose 
From the tree where his perch had been, — 
And the echo that woke from the forest of oak, 
Shouted loud as to chide the sin. 
He soared away on his upward flight, 
As he uttered a piercing cry, 
But suddenly dropped, like the meteor of night 
That falls in a summer sky. 
With a broken wing he could no more seek 
To rise in the glare of day — 
So the monarch that reigned on the mountain’s peak, 
Was carried a captive away. 
* * * * * * 
In a sumptuous cage was the Eagle placed, 
And his food was served with care, 
And the hunter sought to provide his taste 
With all that was rich and rare. 
His meat in a dainty dish was brought, 
And his drink in a basin trim, 
But that which he most desired and sought, 
0 that was not brought to him. 
Where were the woods with their scathed trees. 
Where was the torrent’s roar, 
Where was the sigh of the Northern breeze, 
The surf on the wind-beat shore ? 
Where were the ocean’s crested waves, 
Where were the flower-crowned hills, 
Where were the mossy rocks and caves 
Where were the chiming rills? 
Where, where were the high majestic peaks, 
Where the sun in his glory shined? 
0 he had all these in his memories, 
It was these for which he pined. 
With a spirit broke, like his wounded wing, 
As a flower that is nipt by the frost, 
He was wearing away and withering, 
For the life of his life was lost. 
While the noble bird was in thraldom’s tether 
To soothe him was all in vain — 
The mountain monarch was altogether 
Unfitted for slavery’s chain. 
He could not endure his splendid prison 
When summer was in the sky, 
He could not endure when the sun had uprisen, 
To watch him with captive eye. 
A free breath from the mountains came o’er him again — 
When rising in native pride, 
He buried his talons deep, deep in his brain, 
And, a martyr to liberty, died. 
