At objects in an airy height;
The little pleasure of the game
Is from afar to view the flight.
Nor the pride, nor ample pinion,
That the Theban eagle bear,
Sailing with supreme dominion
Thro' the azure deep of air.
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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."
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RGB: 134 28 130
HEX: #FBB040
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RGB: 251 176 64
HEX: #E20177
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RGB: 226 1 119
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RGB: 193 216 47
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RGB: 164 215 244
To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom,
See their own feathers pluck'd to wing the dart
Which rank corruption destines for their heart.