The Eagle and the Mole

Over great forest regions flying,
A splendid eagle sped, preceding far his mate.
They purposed on a mighty oak to wait,
Until among the branches should be lying,
Within a nest, a brood derived from mutual love;
There they would tend their fledglings through sweet days of summer.
Calls upward a fresh comer,
Who views from earth the king above: —
" This ancient tree is hardly fitted for a dwelling;
Through rotting roots, is insecure.
Will topple: 'scape the woodman's felling."
So utters, from a hole, a voice demure.
But, if a sovereign bird should take from a benighted
And abject mole advice; who then would praise.
In future days,
Eagles keen-sighted?
How dared a mole reflect on higher beings' ways
So drily?
The monarch sternly glanced, but nothing said.
Would hear no little mole, returned to work, instead;
Deftly prepared a future bed
And rest for one he honoured highly;
And welcomed with her, soon, precocious eaglets wily.
What next? It happened once at dawn.
That, to the nest, flew with a tiny fawn
As a rich breakfast in his talents, the fond father.
The oak, as he alas! must gather,
Had, with a crash, both mate and young to earth down drawn.
" Oh, anguish! oh, what dread affliction!
Grievously am I curst!
Fate for my pride, has sent me punishment the worst.
Because I would not heed a wise and shrewd prediction;
Yet, how in truth could I expect,
An humble mole would sage advice to me direct? "
" If you had not despised my message,"
Was muttered from below, " you might have used my presage.