Liberty

Nightingale sings sweetly In the verdant forest; In the verdant forest, On the slender branches.

Thither came three sportsmen, Nightingale to shoot at. She implored the sportsmen, “Shoot me not, ye sportsmen!

“Shoot me not, ye sportsmen! I will give you music, In the verdant garden, On the crimson rose-tree.”

But the sportsmen seize her; They deceive the songster, In a cage confine her, Give her to their loved one.

Nightingale will sing not— Hangs its head in silence: Then the sportsmen bear her To the verdant forests.

Soon her song is waken’d; “Woe! woe! woe betides us, Friend from friend divided, Bird from forest banish’d!”