The examiner. [volume] (Louisville, Ky.) 1847-1849, 1847-08-07

great men and their works; and ! never
found myself the worse for seeing them, but
the better seem TO have made friends
with them in their own houses; to have
walked, and talked, and suffered, and en-
ioyed, with them and if their books have
made their places better, The looks them
selres Yere there phich made them SO,
and which grac ont Of them. The poets
hand was on the place, blessing it, | can
no more separate this idea from the spot,
than ! can take away from il any other
beauty. Even in London find the princi-
pie hold good in me, though ] have lived
there many years, and, of course, associated
ii with every commonplace the most M
poetical. The greater still includes the less;
and ! can no more pass through Weslminis-
ter, without thinking OF Milton: OF thu
Borough without thinking of Chaucer and
Shakespeare or Gray's Inn, without call
ing Bacon TO mind; OF Bloomsbury Square,
without Steele and Akenside---than | can
prefer brick and mortar TO wit and poetry,
or not see beauty upon il beyond architec-
ture, in the splendor of the recollection. |
once had duties to perform which kept me
out late at night, and severely taxed my
health and spirits. My path lay through a
neighbOrhood in which Dryden lived; and
though nothing could be more common
place, and used TO be tired TO the heart
and soul OF me, | never hesiiated TO go lit
tie out of the way, purely that might pass
through Gerard Street, and so give myself
the shadow Of a pleasant thought
PRIsoNED EAGLES.
And the poor eagles and vultmes! The
very instinct of this epithet shows what an
unnatural state they must have been brought
10. Think of eagles being commiserated.
and called "poor.' 1t is monstrous to see
any creature in cage, far more any winged
creature, and most of all such as are accus-
toned TO soar through the vault of heaven,
and have the world under their eye. Look
at the eyes of these birds here, these eagles
and vulures How strangely clouded now
seems that grand and stormy depression of
the eyelid, drawn with that sidelong air of
tightness, fierceness, and threat, as if by the
brush of some mighty painter. That is an
eye for the clouds and the subiect-earth, not
for a miserable hen-coop. And see, poor
tagging wretckes, how they stand on their
perches, each at a little distance from one
another, in poor stationary exhibition, eagles
all Of a rou, quiet, impaired, scrutiny, al
most motionless. Are these the sovereign
creatures described by the Buttons and Mu-
dies, by the Wilson's of omithOlogy and poe
Try, by Spenser, by Homer? Is this the ca
gle OF Pindar, heaving his moist back in
sleep upon the sceptrc of Jove, under the
influence of the music of the gods. Is this
the bird of the English poet,
Soaring through his wide empire Of the air
To heather has broad rams
onderful and admirable is the quietnesS.
the philosophy, or whatever you choose TO
call it, with which all the creatures in this
place, the birds in particular, submit them
selves TO their destiny. They do not howl
and cry, brutes though they be: they do not
endeavor to tear their chains up, or beat down
their dens; they find the contest hopeless, ana
they handsomely and wisely give it up. 1t
is true their wants are attended to As far rs
possible, and they have none of the more
intolerable wants of selflove and wounded
vanity, no vindictiveness seemingly, nor the
love of pure obstinate opposition, and of
seeing whose will can get the day. If they
cannot have Liberty, they will not disgrace
captivity. But then what loss TO them is
tina; of liberty. 1t is thought by some, that
all which they care for is Their food: and
that, having plenty of this, they must be
comfortable, But feeding, though a plea
sure OF life, is not the end of il: it is only
one of its Pleasurable supports. Or grant
il even TO be one of the ends OF life, as. in
deed, i, may be considered, by reason of It's
being pleasure, more especially with some
animals, not excepting some human ones,
still, consider what far greater portion of
existence is passed by all creatures in the
exercise of their other faculties and in some
form of motion. 20 much so, that even food
would seem not SO much an object of the
exercise, as a means of t-life itself being
motion in pulse and thought Then think
of how much of the very spirit Of their ex.
istence all imprisoned creatures are deprived.