And water clear, her thirst to slake,
She chose to sip from the cool lake:
And, when she sung herself to rest,
’Twas in what hedge she lik’d the best:
And thus, because she was not free,
Hating the chain of slavery,
She rather added link to link:
—Just so men reach misfortune’s brink.
At length, revolving on her state,
She cries, “I might have met worse fate,