How sweet I roam'd from field to field

    And tasted all the summer's pride，

    Till I the Prince of Love beheld¹

    Who in the sunny beams did glide²！

    He show'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 vocal³ 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.

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