He broods upon the highest perch
Within the wire-encircled run—
And motionless, his fierce eyes search
The dazzling glory of the sun;
He deigns no glance at curious crowds—
Their speech comes like the muffled roar
Below the sea cliffs wreathed in clouds,
Far on a bleak and icy shore.

There was his nest, and from its height
He watched, majestic as a king—
The sun could blind not with its light,
Nor feared he any living thing;
A life in glorious freedom spent,
To feed the eaglets all his care—
But here he sickens, prison-pent,
Untamed, though, in his fierce despair.