How sweet I roamed from field to field,
And tasted all the summer's pride,
'Til I the prince of love beheld,
Who in the sunny beams did glide!
He shew'd me lillies for my hair,
And blushing roses for my brow;
He led me through the garden fair,
Where all his golden pleasures grow.
With sweet May dews my wings were wet,
And Phoebus fir'd my vocal range;
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.