Classic Poem

How shall I picture forth the eagle's flight?
An arrow feather'd with two mighty vans,
That soars and stoops at will, and broadly scans
The woods and waters with a living sight!
A wondrous arrow! wheeling round and round,
Before its prone descent upon the prey,
Descried far off upon the subject ground,
And with one stroke disabled for the fray;
But lo! there comes a small, unpennon'd thing,
And, from the rifle's throat directly sped,
Is potent to bring down this arrow-king,
With slacken'd wing and self-abandon'd head.
His nearest foe is yonder human eye,
With no assailant else in earth or sky!