SONGS for CHILDREN, SONG IV

'Tis a pretty bird, my deary, See his wings are tipt with gold; What a pity he should fear ye, But he should not be too bold.

In the woods had you first found him, When he warbled from the spray; When the joys of freedom crown'd him, O! how sweet, tho' wild his lay.

But in bondage thus restraining, Tho' he tunes his little voice, Still his song is but complaining; Can the captive e'er rejoice?

Arts in time may tame and please him, (Arts he never knew when free) But in vain you strive to please him, While he pants for liberty.