Oh, barbarous you, who still can bear
This mournful doom to bid me share;
To see me droop and sadden on
With wishful eye from dawn to dawn;
Beating my little breast in woe
'Gainst these dread wires that vex me so,
And my glad passage still deny,
To soar and sing in yonder sky.
Oh, let me fly, fly up once more:
How would my wing delighted soar!
What rapture would my song declare,
Pour'd out upon the sunny air!
Oh, set me free! for here in vain
I try to breathe one gladsome strain;
In this dark den I pine, I die;
Oh, let me flee to yonder sky!
26. The Spider and the Fly.
Will you walk into my parlour, said a Spider to a Fly;
'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy.
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I have many pretty things to shew when you get there.
Oh, no, no! said the little Fly; to ask me is in vain:
For who goes up that winding stair shall ne'er come down again.
Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, Dear friend, what can I do
