Nature has with gladness crown’d you,
Woodlands echo at your birth,
Spreads a flowery carpet round you,
Bids you walk in freedom forth.
But beware of your destroyer,
Crafty Reynard stalks the plains,
To your shepherd cleave then closer,
Or he’ll drain your little veins.
In your merry evening gambols,
Of surrounding foes beware,
Also in your distant rambles,
See you wander not too far.
Fell destruction round you hovers,
Therefore caution don’t despise,
Croaking ravens wait in numbers,
To pick out your little eyes.
Go not forth without your shepherd,
Be not lifted up with pride,
For if peaceful you would slumber,
You must never leave his side.
Till your strength is perfected,
Keep within your master’s ground,
You shall never be neglected,
If you thus are faithful found.
See yon lamb that now is bleating,
Him misfortune calls its own;
And mark’d out an early victim,
From the flock he strays alone.
See the little lonely mourner,
Like a bull-rush hangs his head,
Seeks a solitary corner,
And refuses to be fed.
Life to him appears a burden,
This his wailings testify,
Earth no pleasures can afford him,
He will shortly droop and die.
Ere he drink the crystal fountain,
Ere he dance the flowery plain,
Ere he bleat on yonder mountain,
He returns to earth again.