Blest paper-credit! last and best supply! That lends corruption lighter wings to fly!
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O grave! where is thy victory? O death! where is thy sting?
See! From the brake the whirring pheasant springs, And mounts exulting on triumphant wings; Short is his joy! He feels the fiery wound, Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground.
And seem to walk on wings, and tread in air.
On wings of wind came flying all abroad.
No more the mounting larks, while Daphne sings, Shall, list'ning, in mid-air suspend their wings.
Say, will the falcon, stooping from above, Smit with her varying plumage, spare the dove? Admires the jay the insect's gilded wings? Or hears the hawk when Philomela sings?
Love, free as air, at sight of human ties, Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies.
And little eagles wave their wings in gold.