the eagle, and the mole.

Or great forest regions flying, a splendid eagle sped, preceding far his mate.

They purposed on a mighty oak to wait, Until among the branches should be lying Within a nest a brood derived from mutual love.

There they would tend their fledglings Through sweet days of summer, Calls upward a freshcomer, Who views from earth the king above, This ancient tree is hardly fitted for a dwelling.

Through rotting roots is insecure.

We'll topple, escape the woodman's felling,' so utters, from a hole, a voice demure.

But if a sovereign bird should take from a benighted an abject mole advice, who then would praise, in future days, eagles keen-sighted?

How dared a mole reflect on higher beings' ways so dryly?

The monarch sternly glanced, but nothing said.

Would here no little mole return to work instead?