That eagles fate and mine are one, Which on the shaft that made him die Espied a feather of his own, Wherewith he wont to soar so high.1
To a Lady singing a Song of his Composing.
Note 1. So in the Libyan fable it is told That once an eagle, stricken with a dart, Said, when he saw the fashion of the shaft, With our own feathers, not by others hands, Are we now smitten. Æschylus: Fragm. 123 (Plumptres Translation).
So the struck eagle, stretchd upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, Viewd his own feather on the fatal dart, And wingd the shaft that quiverd in his heart. Lord Byron: English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, line 826.
Like a young eagle, who has lent his plume To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom, See their own feathers pluckd to wing the dart Which rank corruption destines for their heart. Thomas Moore: Corruption. [back]