Sitting upon my throne of augury, As is my wont, where every fowl of heaven Find harborage, upon mine ears was borne A jargon strange of twitterings, hoots, and screams; So knew I that each bird at the other tare With bloody talons, for the whirr of wings Could signify naught else.
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Show samples from other sources
Once again (I speak now from the vantage point of hindsight) Nathan was dealing in small auguries of the world to come.
William Styron -- Sophie’s Choice
The magistrate observed me with a keen eye and of course drew an unfavourable augury from my manner.