FastSaying
That eagle's fate and mine are one, Which, on the shaft that made him die, Espied a feather of his own, Wherewith he wont to soar so high.
Edmund Waller
Eagles
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Vexed sailors cursed the rain, for which poor shepherds prayed in vain.
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All human things Of dearest value hang on slender strings.
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Tea does our fancy aid, Repress those vapours which the head invade And keeps that palace of the soul serene.
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Poets that lasting marble seek Must come in Latin or in Greek.
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His love at once and dread instruct our thought; As man He suffer'd and as God He taught.
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