Hint From the Mountains
For Certain Political Aspirants.
Stranger, ’tis a sight of pleasure
When the wings of genius rise
Their ability to measure
With great enterprise ;
But in man was ne’er such daring
As yon Hawk exhibits, pairing
His brave spirit with the war in
The stormy skies !
Mark him, how his power he uses,
Lays it by, at will resumes !
Mark, are for his haunt he chooses
Clouds and utter glooms !
There, he wheels in downward mazes ;
Sunward now his flight he raises,
Catches fire, as seems, and blazes
With uninjured plumes !—
Answer.
Traveller, ’tis no act of courage
Which aloft thou dost discern ;
No bold bird gone forth to forage
Mid the tempest stern ;
But such mockery as the Nations
See, when Commonwealth-vexations
Lift men from their native stations,
Like yon tuft of fern;
Such it is, and not a Haggard
Soaring on undaunted wing ;
’Tis by nature dull and laggard,
A poor helpless Thing,
Dry, and withered, light and yellow ;—
That to be the tempest’s fellow !
Wait—and you shall see how hollow
Its endeavouring !