HOW sweet I roam’d from field to field, 
And tasted all the summer’s pride, 
‘Till I the prince of love beheld, 
Who in the sunny beams did glide!
 
He shew’d me lilies for my hair, 
And blushing roses for my brow;
He led me through his gardens fair 
Where all his golden pleasures grow.

With sweet May dews my wings were wet, 
And Phoebus fir’d my vocal rage; 
He caught me in his silken net, 
And shut me in his golden cage.

He loves to sit and hear me sing, 
Then, laughing, sports and plays with me; 
Then stretches out my golden wing, 
And mocks my loss of liberty. 

THE END