Mr Elliott


The Captive Lark forgets to sing,
And idly beats, with flutt’ring wing
And open’d beak, in fruitless rage,
The narrow limits of his cage:
 Yet soon tamed, and accustom’d
  His flights to forego,
 He cheerly sweetly warbles,
  Forgetful of woe.


And thus the Youth, whose free-born soul
Is new to tyrant Love’s control,
Laments, and struggles oft in vain
To break or loose the magic chain:
 Yet soon, taught what pleasure
  A true Love warms,
 He fondly sweetly warbles
  His dear Idol’s charms.