Not to the clouds, not to the cliff, he flew;
But when a storm, on sea or mountain bred,
Came and delivered him, alone he sped
Into the castle-dungeon’s darkest mew.
Now, near his master’s house in open view
He dwells, and hears indignant tempests howl,
Kenneled and chained. Ye tame domestic fowl,
Beware of him! Thou, saucy cockatoo,
Look to thy plumage and thy life! The roe,
Fleet as the west wind, is for ‘him’ no quarry;
Balanced in ether he will never tarry,
Eyeing the sea’s blue depths. Poor Bird! even so
Doth man of brother man a creature make
That clings to slavery for its own sad sake.
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