Home ⇒ 📌Michael Drayton ⇒ Sonnet LVI: When Like an Eaglet
Sonnet LVI: When Like an Eaglet
When like an eaglet I first found my Love,
For that the virtue I thereof would know,
Upon the nest I set it forth to prove
If it were of that kingly kind or no;
But it no sooner say my Sun appear,
But on her rays with open eyes it stood,
To show that I had hatch’d it for the air
And rightly came from that brave mounting brood;
And, when the plumes were summ’d with sweet desire,
To prove the pinions it ascends the skies;
Do what I could, it needsly would aspire
To my Soul’s Sun, those two celestial eyes.
Thus from my breast, where it was bred alone,
It after thee is, like an eaglet, flown.
(2 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
Related poetry:
- Sonnet LV: My Fair, If Thou Wilt My Fair, if thou wilt register my love, A world of volumes shall thereof arise; Preserve my tears, and thou thyself shalt prove A second flood, down-raining from mine eyes. Note by my sighs, and thine eyes shall behold The sunbeams smother’d with immortal smoke; And if by thee my prayers may be enroll’d, They […]...
- Sonnet XXV: The Wisest Scholar The wisest scholar of the wight most wise By Phoebus’ doom, with sugar’d sentence says, That Virtue, if it once met with our eyes, Strange flames of love it in our souls would raise; But for that man with pain his truth descries, Whiles he each thing in sense’s balance weighs, And so nor will, […]...
- Sonnet 12 – Indeed this very love which is my boast Indeed this very love which is my boast, And which, when rising up from breast to brow, Doth crown me with a ruby large enow To draw men’s eyes and prove the inner cost,- This love even, all my worth, to the uttermost, I should not love withal, unless that thou Hadst set me an […]...
- Sonnet XXXV: Some, Misbelieving To Miracle Some, misbelieving and profane in love, When I do speak of miracles by thee, May say, that thou art flattered by me, Who only write my skill in verse to prove. See miracles, ye unbelieving, see A dumb-born Muse made t’express the mind, A cripple hand to write, yet lame by kind, One […]...
- Sonnet XLI: Yes, I Will Go Yes, I will go, where circling whirlwinds rise, Where threat’ning clouds in sable grandeur lour; Where the blast yells, the liquid columns pour, And madd’ning billows combat with the skies! There, while the Daemon of the tempest flies On growing pinions through the troublous hour, The wild waves gasp impatient to devour, And on the […]...
- Sonnet XXX: Those Priests To the Vestals Those priests which first the Vestal fire begun, Which might be borrow’d from no earthly flame, Devis’d a vessel to receive the Sun, Being steadfastly opposed to the same; Where, with sweet wood, laid curiously by art, On which the Sun might by reflection beat, Receiving strength from every secret part, The […]...
- Sonnet XII: Cupid, Because Thou Cupid, because thou shin’st in Stella’s eyes, That from her locks, thy day-nets, noe scapes free, That those lips swell, so full of thee they be, That her sweet breath makes oft thy flames to rise, That in her breast thy pap well sugared lies, That he Grace gracious makes thy wrongs, that she What […]...
- Robert Davidson I grew spiritually fat living off the souls of men. If I saw a soul that was strong I wounded its pride and devoured its strength. The shelters of friendship knew my cunning, For where I could steal a friend I did so. And wherever I could enlarge my power By undermining ambition, I did […]...
- To Hope When by my solitary hearth I sit, And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom; When no fair dreams before my “mind’s eye” flit, And the bare heath of life presents no bloom; Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed, And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head! Whene’er I wander, at the fall of […]...
- At Castle Wood The day is done, the winter sun Is setting in its sullen sky; And drear the course that has been run, And dim the hearts that slowly die. No star will light my coming night; No morn of hope for me will shine; I mourn not heaven would blast my sight, And I ne’er longed […]...
- Sonnet XXXVII: When, in the Gloomy Mansion When, in the gloomy mansion of the dead, This with’ring heart, this faded form shall sleep; When these fond eyes, at length shall cease to weep, And earth’s cold lap receive this fev’rish head; Envy shall turn away, a tear to shed, And Time’s obliterating pinions sweep The spot, where poets shall their vigils keep, […]...
- Sonnet to My Beloved Daughter WHEN FATE in ruthless rage assail’d my breast, And Heaven relentless seal’d the harsh decree; HOPE, placid soother of the mind distress’d; To calm my rending sorrowsgave me THEE. In all the charms of innocence array’d, ‘Tis thine to sprinkle patience on my woes; As from thy voice celestial comfort flows, Glancing bright lustre o’er […]...
- Me prove it now Whoever doubt Me prove it now Whoever doubt Me stop to prove it now Make haste the Scruple! Death be scant For Opportunity The River reaches to my feet As yet My Heart be dry Oh Lover Life could not convince Might Death enable Thee The River reaches to My Breast Still still My Hands above Proclaim […]...
- Sonnet 22 – When our two souls stand up erect and strong When our two souls stand up erect and strong, Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher, Until the lengthening wings break into fire At either curved point,-what bitter wrong Can the earth do to us, that we should not long Be here contented? Think. In mounting higher, The angels would press on us and […]...
- Sonnet XXIII: To Aetna's Scorching Sands To AEtna’s scorching sands my Phaon flies! False Youth! can other charms attractive prove? Say, can Sicilian loves thy passions move, Play round thy heart, and fix thy fickle eyes, While in despair the Lesbian Sappho dies? Has Spring for thee a crown of poppies wove, Or dost thou languish in th’ Idalian grove, Whose […]...
- The Greatness Of The World Through the world which the Spirit creative and kind First formed out of chaos, I fly like the wind, Until on the strand Of its billows I land, My anchor cast forth where the breeze blows no more, And Creation’s last boundary stands on the shore. I saw infant stars into being arise, For thousands […]...
- On Imagination Thy various works, imperial queen, we see, How bright their forms! how deck’d with pomp by thee! Thy wond’rous acts in beauteous order stand, And all attest how potent is thine hand. From Helicon’s refulgent heights attend, Ye sacred choir, and my attempts befriend: To tell her glories with a faithful tongue, Ye blooming graces, […]...
- Sonnet LXXXVIII When thou shalt be disposed to set me light, And place my merit in the eye of scorn, Upon thy side against myself I’ll fight, And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn. With mine own weakness being best acquainted, Upon thy part I can set down a story Of faults conceal’d, wherein I am […]...
- Sonnet LXIX Those parts of thee that the world’s eye doth view Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend; All tongues, the voice of souls, give thee that due, Uttering bare truth, even so as foes commend. Thy outward thus with outward praise is crown’d; But those same tongues that give thee so thine own […]...
- Sonnet 88: When thou shalt be disposed to set me light When thou shalt be disposed to set me light And place my merit in the eye of scorn, Upon thy side, against myself I’ll fight, And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn. With mine own weakness being best acquainted, Upon thy part I can set down a story Of faults concealed, wherein I am […]...
- To A Clergyman On The Death Of His Lady WHERE contemplation finds her sacred spring, Where heav’nly music makes the arches ring, Where virtue reigns unsully’d and divine, Where wisdom thron’d, and all the graces shine, There sits thy spouse amidst the radiant throng, While praise eternal warbles from her tongue; There choirs angelic shout her welcome round, With perfect bliss, and peerless glory […]...
- Holy Sonnet VIII: If Faithful Souls Be Alike Glorified If faithful souls be alike glorified As angels, then my fathers soul doth see, And adds this even to full felicity, That valiantly I hells wide mouth o’erstride: But if our minds to these souls be descried By circumstances, and by signs that be Apparent in us, not immediately, How shall my mind’s white truth […]...
- Sonnet 69: Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view Those parts of thee that the world’s eye doth view Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend; All tongues, the voice of souls, give thee that due, Utt’ring bare truth, even so as foes commend. Thy outward thus with outward praise is crowned, But those same tongues that give thee so thine own […]...
- Poems On The Slave Trade – Sonnet II Why dost thou beat thy breast and rend thine hair, And to the deaf sea pour thy frantic cries? Before the gale the laden vessel flies; The Heavens all-favoring smile, the breeze is fair; Hark to the clamors of the exulting crew! Hark how their thunders mock the patient skies! Why dost thou shriek and […]...
- Sonnet XX A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion; An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; A man in hue, all ‘hues’ in his controlling, […]...
- Sonnet IV: Virtue, Alas Virtue, alas, now let me take some rest. Thou set’st a bate between my soul and wit. If vain love have my simple soul oppress’d, Leave what thou likest not, deal not thou with it. The scepter use in some old Cato’s breast; Churches or schools are for thy seat more fit. I do confess, […]...
- Sonnet 20: A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion; An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; A man in hue, all hues in his controlling, […]...
- Sonnet XXXIII: Whilst Yet Mine Eyes To Imagination Whilst yet mine Eyes do surfeit with delight, My woeful Heart, imprison’d in my breast, Wisheth to be transformed to my sight, That it, like these, by looking might be blest. But whilst my Eyes thus greedily do gaze, Finding their objects over-soon depart, These now the other’s happiness do praise, Wishing themselves […]...
- Sonnet XXIV Mine eye hath play’d the painter and hath stell’d Thy beauty’s form in table of my heart; My body is the frame wherein ’tis held, And perspective it is the painter’s art. For through the painter must you see his skill, To find where your true image pictured lies; Which in my bosom’s shop is […]...
- Sonnet II VNquiet thought, whom at the first I bred, Of th’inward bale of my loue pined hart: And sithens haue with sighes and sorrowes fed, Till greater then my wombe thou woxen art. Breake forth at length out of the inner part, In which thou lurkest lyke to vipers brood: And seeke some succour both to […]...
- Astrophel And Stella – Sonnet CVIII When Sorrow, using mine own fire’s might, Melts down his lead into my boiling breast, Through that dark furnace to my heart oppressed, There shines a joy from thee, my only light: But soon as thought of thee breeds my delight, And my young soul flutters to thee, his nest, Most rude Despair, my daily […]...
- Sonnet LII: What? Dost Thou Mean What? Dost thou mean to cheat me of my heart? To take all mine and give me none again? Or have thine eyes such magic or that art That what they get they ever do retain? Play not the tyrant, but take some remorse; Rebate thy spleen, if but for pity’s sake; Or, cruel, if […]...
- Sonnet VIII: There's Nothing Grieves Me There’s nothing grieves me, but that Age should haste, That in my days I may not see thee old, That where those two clear sparkling eyes are plac’d Only two loop-holes then I might behold; That lovely, arched, ivory, polish’d brow Defac’d with wrinkles that I might but see; Thy dainty hair, so curl’d and […]...
- Sonnet 136: If thy soul check thee that I come so near If thy soul check thee that I come so near, Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy Will, And will thy soul knows is admitted there; Thus far for love, my love suit, sweet, fulfil. Will will fulfil the treasure of thy love, Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one. […]...
- Sonnet CXXXVI If thy soul cheque thee that I come so near, Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy ‘Will,’ And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there; Thus far for love my love-suit, sweet, fulfil. ‘Will’ will fulfil the treasure of thy love, Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one. In […]...
- Sonnet II: High on a Rock High on a rock, coaeval with the skies, A Temple stands, rear’d by immortal pow’rs To Chastity divine! ambrosial flow’rs Twining round icicles, in columns rise, Mingling with pendent gems of orient dyes! Piercing the air, a golden crescent tow’rs, Veil’d by transparent clouds; while smiling hours Shake from their varying wings celestial joys! The […]...
- Sonnet – To Science Science! true daughter of Old Time thou art! Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes. Why preyest thou thus upon the poet’s heart, Vulture, whose wings are dull realities? How should he love thee? or how deem thee wise, Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering To seek for treasure in the jewelled […]...
- Sonnet Oh for a poet-for a beacon bright To rift this changless glimmer of dead gray; To spirit back the Muses, long astray, And flush Parnassus with a newer light; To put these little sonnet-men to flight Who fashion, in a shrewd mechanic way, Songs without souls, that flicker for a day, To vanish in irrevocable […]...
- Sonnet XIV: If He From Heav'n If he from Heav’n that filch’d that living fire Condemn’d by Jove to endless torment be, I greatly marvel how you still go free That far beyond Prometheus did aspire. The fire he stole, although of heav’nly kind, Which from above he craftily did take, Of lifeless clods us living men to make, He did […]...
- On A Dead Violet The odor from the flower is gone Which like thy kisses breathed on me; The color from the flower is flown Which glowed of thee and only thee! A shrivelled, lifeless, vacant form, It lies on my abandoned breast; And mocks the heart, which yet is warm, With cold and silent rest. I weep my […]...
« Song