The Black Eagle: A Song by James Fordyce

Hark! yonder Eagle lonely wails:
His faithful bosom grief assails.
Last night I heard him in my dream,
When death and woe were all the theme.
Like that poor Bird I make my moan;
I grieve for dearest Delia gone.
With him to gloomy rocks I fly:
He mourns for love, and so do I.

‘Twas mighty love that tam’d his breast;
‘Tis tender grief that breaks his rest.
He drops his wings, he hangs his head,
Since see he fondly lov’d was dead.
With Delia’s breath my joy expir’d;
‘Twas Delia’s smiles my fancy sir’d.
Like that poor Bird, I pine, and prove
Nought can supply the place of Love.

Dark as his feathers was the fate
That robb’d him of his darling Mate.
Dimm’d is the lustre of his eye,
That wont to gaze the fun-bright sky.
To him is now for ever lost
The heart-felt bliss he once could boast.
Thy sorrows, hapless Bird, display
An image of my soul’s dismay.

From: Fordyce, James, Poems, 1786, T. Cadell: London, pp. 105-106.

Date: 1786

By: James Fordyce (1720-1796)


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