TWO tiny, contrasting, tributes to the king of birds.

Tennyson pens the first; Andrew Young, the Scottish cleric-poet, offers a startling religious analogy in the second.

THE EAGLE

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;

Close to the sun in lonely lands,

Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;

He watches from his mountain walls,

And like a thunderbolt he falls.

THE EAGLE

He hangs between his wings outspread

Level and still

And bends a narrow golden head,

Scanning the ground to kill.

Yet as he sails and smoothly swings

Round the hillside,

He looks as though from his own wings

He hung down crucified.