As I buffet this great glad gale, Spire and spire to the cloud-world, wheel, Loosen my wings and sail? For I am the hawk, the island hawk, Who knoweth my pitiless breast? Who watcheth me sway in the sun's bright way? Flee—flee—for I quest, I quest. [Pg 22] IV Had they given me "Cloud-cuckoo-city" to guard Between mankind and the sky, Tho' the dew might shine on an April sward, Iris had ne'er passed by! Swift as her beautiful wings might be From the rosy Olympian hill, Had Epops entrusted the gates to me Earth were his kingdom still. For I am the hawk, the archer, the hawk! Who knoweth my pitiless breast? Who watcheth me sway in the wild wind's way?
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