What is it that strength, moreover winged might,
That vision, a million miles high, seeks prey?
Thy proud breast that hovers high before night,
And thou art king, thy royal pleasure may.
Portray sovereign, on loyal subject spies;
That fear thee and in thy majesty soar.
With gold crown framing thy diadem eyes,
As wings extend from this bold carnivore.
Thou speaks, yet thy voice above clouds resound;
Atop this noble sanctuary glide,
Till thee find thy throned perch peering o’er ground;
Gold talons stoutly stand upright with pride.
In pure external beauty gaily flied,
And you, all the heav’ns, hath glorified.