When to the sun a man hath raised his eye Too long, thenceforth he sees persistently A floating, livid spot; I for one moment madly bent my gaze, With youth's audacity, on Glory's blaze, The blaze became a blot. Since then, on all things, melancholy, dark, I trace despairingly the spectral mark I strive in vain to shun: Must it forever on my life intrude? Alas! none other than the eagle's brood Unblinded face the sun! |