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O bird of twinkling eye and plumage gay,
Soaring in glorious heights beyond our ken,
Threading the branching beauty of the glen,
What clouds have fall’n upon thy shining way!
Preying thyself, thou art become a prey,
A hovering terror feared and cursed of men;
For faithful shepherd needs must smite again
Whate’er his harmless flock would tear and slay.
A madness like thine alpine torrent’s own,
Shrouding thee in the mists of lowering hate,
Hurries thee to the shade of nether gloom,
Dashes thee from thy bush-clad mountain throne
To deep disgrace and ignominious fate,
And seals thee with irrevocable doom.
—Albert B. Chappell.
