Classic Poem

Eagle of the far Northwest!
Thou, who bear'st the thunderer's bow,
Thou, who com'st with lightning crest,
And with eye of swarthy glow;
Thou, who lashest with thy wing,
Wild in rage, the foaming deep,
Till the warring billows spring,
And the upturned waters leap;
Thou, who send'st thy scream of wrath,
Like a nation's dying cry,
Sweeping on thy surging path,
Like the roar of tempest, by;
When thy scream is wild in ire,
When thy wing is swift as death,
At my bidding, quench thy fire!
At my bidding, hush thy breath!

Thou hast met the mountain pine, —
And the towering wood is low;
Thou hast spread those wings of thine, —
Ocean steeds their prowess know;
When the bark in triumph rides
Proudly in its press of sail,
Lo! thy pinions lash the tides,
And the stoutest seamen quail;
Where aloft the tower of might
Crowns in pride the cloud-capt rock,
There thou bend'st thy maddening flight,
And it shivers in the shock;
Though the clouds before thee fly,
Though thou rulest rock and tower,
Thou shalt lay thy fury by,
When thou hear'st my spell of power.

At the uttering of my spell,
Faint and fall the flying deer;
Bloodhounds cease their muttered yell,
When the mighty sound is near;
Then the wild hawks stoop their wing,
Then the wolves their howling hush,
Then around the magic ring
Glaring fiends and goblins rush:
Thou, who scorn'st the scream and yell
Echoed from the midnight wreck,
Sneering with the laugh of hell
As the wild waves sweep the deck;
Thou, who hear'st, with shouts of glee,
Crushing roof and pillar fall, —
Thou shalt listen unto me, —
Me, who rule and conquer all.

From thy fury on the deep,
From thy madness on the shore,
Where the wailing widows weep
Those who sink to rise no more,
From the ravage of the wood,
From the sweeping of the plain,
From the swelling of the flood,
Come, and hear my Runic strain.
Let thy giant wing be still,
Let the ocean cease to roar,
Settle on that lonely hill,
Dart thy bolt, and flash no more; —
Thou, who, from the far Northwest,
Scour'st the wild sea in thy course,
Fold thy rapid wings in rest,
Conquered by my magic force.

Eagle of the far Northwest!
Thou hast furled thy sweeping sail,
Thou hast closed thy wings in rest,
For my charm and spell prevail:
Now I bid thee steal away,
O'er the calmly rolling wave;
Go, and till I call thee, stay
Slumbering in thy icy cave:
Sweet and silent be thy sleep,
On the rock beneath the pole;
Let thy rest be still and deep,
Till thou feel'st my strong control:
I can rouse thee with my spell,
Bird of might and bird of flame!
Then one word thy rage can quell,
And thy wildest fury tame.