How sweet I roam’d from field to field,
And tasted all the summer’s pride,
’Till I the prince of love behold,
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 garden fair,
Where all his golden pleasures grow.
With sweet May dews my wings were wet,
And Phœbus 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 hour of liberty.