The Black Eagle.
[Written by Dr. Fordyce, and published in Johnson's Museum. Dr. Fordyce perished at sea in the year 1755.]
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 tamed his breast,
'Tis tender grief that breaks his rest;
He droops his wings, he hangs his head,
Since she he fondly loved was dead.
With Delia's breath my joy expired,
'Twas Delia's smiles my fancy fired;
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 sun-bright sky.
To him is now for ever lost,
The heartfelt bliss he once could boast;
Thy sorrows, hapless bird, display,
An image of my soul's dismay.