The day is dreary as the night,
And a sad darkness clouds the sight:
Like the poor Starling in his cage,
In doleful plaints he spends his rage;
And all his cry, &c.
At eve with gnawing care opprest,
His weary eye-lids ache for rest;
Then clanking chains above him roll,
And sobs, and wailings pierce his soul.
Like the poor Starling in his cage,