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My wife shall dance and I will sing,
So merrily pass the day;
For I hold it one of the wisest things
To drive dull care away.


I Sigh and lament me in vain,
These walls can but echo my moan,
Alas! it encreases my pain,
When I think of the days that are gone
Thro' the grate of my prison I see
The birds as they wanton in air,
My heart it now pants to be free,
My looks they are wild with despair.

Above, tho' opprest by my fate,
I burn with contempt for my foes,
Tho' fortune has alter'd my state,
She ne'er can subdue me to those.
False woman in ages to come,
Thy malice detested shall be;
And when we are cold in the tomb,
Some heart still with sorrow for me.

Ye roofs, where cold damps and dismay

With silence and solitudc dwell,