THE
EAGLE
and
ROBIN
RED-BREAST
.
A
FABLE
.
Written
before
the
year
1600.
BY
MR.
ARCHIBALD
SCOTT
.
THE
prince
of
all
the
feather'd
kind
,
That
with
spread
wings
outflies
the
wind
,
And
tow'rs
far
out
of
human
sight
To
view
the
shining
orb
of
light
:
This
Royal
Bird
,
tho'
brave
and
great
,
And
armed
strong
for
stern
debate
,
No
tyrant
is
,
but
condescends
Oft-times
to
treat
inferior
friends
.
One
day
at
his
command
did
flock
To
his
high
palace
on
a
rock
,
The
courtiers
of
ilk
various
size
That
swiftly
swim
in
chrystal
skies
;
Thither
the
valiant
tarsels
doup
,
And
here
rapacious
corbies
croup
,
With
greedy
gleads
,
and
sly
gormahs
,
And
dimson
pyes
,
and
chattering
dawes
;
Proud
peacocks
,
and
a
hundred
mae
,
Brush'd
up
their
pens
that
solemn
day
,
Bow'd
first
submissive
to
my
lord
,
Then
took
their
places
at
his
board
.
Meantime
while
feasting
on
a
fawn
,
And
drinking
blood
from
lamies
drawn
,
A
tuneful
robin
trig
and
young
,
Hard-by
upon
a
burr-tree
sung
.
He
sang
the
eagle's
royal
line
,
His
piercing
eye
,
and
right
divine
To
sway
out-owre
the
feather'd
thrang
,
Who
dread
his
martial
bill
and
fang
:
His
flight
sublime
,
and
eild
renew'd
,
His
mind
with
clemency
endu'd
;
In
softer
notes
he
sang
his
love
,
More
high
,
his
bearing
bolts
for
Jove
.
The
monarch
bird
with
blitheness
heard
The
chaunting
little
silvan
bard
,
Call'd
up
a
buzzard
,
who
was
then
His
favourite
and
chamberlain
.
Swith
to
my
treasury
,
quoth
he
,
And
to
yon
canty
robin
gie
As
muckle
of
our
current
gear
As
may
maintain
him
thro'
the
year
;
We
can
well
spar't
,
and
its
his
due
:
He
bade
,
and
forth
the
Judas
flew
,
Straight
to
the
branch
where
robin
sung
,
And
with
a
wicked
lying
tongue
,
Said
ah
!
ye
sing
so
dull
and
rough
,
Ye've
deaf'd
our
lugs
more
than
enough
,
His
Majesty
has
a
nice
ear
,
And
no
more
of
your
stuff
can
bear
;
Poke
up
your
pipes
,
be
no
more
seen
At
court
,
I
warn
you
as
a
frien
.
He
spake
,
while
robin's
swelling
breast
,
And
drooping
wings
his
grief
exprest
;
The
tears
ran
hopping
down
his
cheek
,
Great
grew
his
heart
,
he
could
not
speak
.
No
for
the
tinsel
of
reward
,
But
that
his
notes
met
no
regard
:
Strait
to
the
shaw
he
spread
his
wing
,
Resolv'd
again
no
more
to
sing
,
Where
princely
bounty
is
supprest
By
such
with
whom
They
are
opprest
;
Who
cannot
bear
(
because
they
want
it
)
That
ought
should
be
to
merit
granted
.