The black eagle

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 tam'd his breast,

'Tis tender grief that breaks his rest;

He droops his wings, he hangs his head,

Since she he fondly lov'd was dead;

With Delia's breath my joy expir'd,

'Twas Delia's smiles my fancy fir'd;

Like that poor bird, I pine, and prove

Naught can supply the place of love.