Sweeps all the sky,
As hard he grips the rock.
Storm's ice-clad brood that round him flock
But blow the fires of his undaunted breast,
And forth he fares in ecstasy of quest.
Still up he goes, to proudly fling
His own against the thunder's wing.
O Eagle of the mighty heart,
Give me of what thou art:
Breed in my soul thy lofty air,
That it may nobly dare,
And with unconquerable will
Face every darkest ill.