But the hawks actually hone in on the smoke.

When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk.

The wild hawk stood with the down on his beak And stared with his foot on the prey.

She rears her young on yonder tree; She leaves her faithful mate to mind 'em; Like us, for fish she sails to sea, And, plunging, shows us where to find 'em. Yo, ho, my hearts! let's seek the deep, Ply every oar, and cheerly with her, While slow the bending net we sweep, God bless the fish-hawk and the fisher.

No marvel, an it like your majesty, My Lord Protector's hawks do tower so well; They know their master loves to be aloft And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch.

Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch, Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth, Between two blades, which bears the better temper, Between two horses, which doth bear him best, Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye, I have perhaps some shallow spirit of judgment; But in these nice sharp quillets of the law, Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw.