Dear Amanda!—leave me free,
And my notes will sweeter be;
On your breast, or in the tree![167]
On your arm I would repose—
One—oh make me—of your beaus—
There I would relate my woes.
Now, all love, and full of play,
I so innocently gay,
Pine my little life away.
Thus to grieve and flutter here,
Thus to pine from year to year;
This is usage too severe.
From the chiefs who rule your isle,
I will never court a smile;
All, with them, is prison style.[168]
But from your superior mind
Let me but my freedom find,
And I will be all resigned.
Then your kiss will hold me fast—
If but once by you embraced,
In your 'kerchief I will rest.
Gentle shepherds of the plain,
Who so fondly hear my strain;
Help me to be free again.
'Tis a blessing to be free:—
Fair Amanda![169]—pity me,
Pity him who sings for thee.
But if, cruel, you deny
That your captive bird should fly,
Here detained so wrongfully,