1Why must I thus forever be confined
2Against the noble freedom of my mind—
3Whenas
each hoary moth, and gaudy fly
4Within their spheres enjoy their liberty?
5The virgin bee her luscious cell forsakes
6And on a thousand flowers pleasure takes;
7The glist’ring
beetle
casts
her stag-like horns, 8The next year new her stately front
adorns: 9She rolls her unctuous
embryo east and west 10To call great Nature, who hears her behest;
11The silkworm feeds, then works, then she involves
12Herself, then breeds, then flies till she dissolves
. 13The basilisk, that kills by fascination,
14Is not like me tied to one habitation;
15No, nor the catablepe
whose pois’nous eye, 16Where’er she goes, makes grass and flowers die:
17Though these destroy, yet may they freely range
18Whilst I am shut up in a country grange
. 19My looks
, though sad, would make my friend revive; 20Why must I then be buried thus alive?
21The amphisbaena
, that at both ends kill, 22Doth freely slide about wheree’er she will;
23The dipsas
that doth make men die with quaffing, 24And the tarantula, that kills with laughing
, 25With that bold worm
which killed the Egyptian queen
26All freely crawling ’bout the world are seen.
27Thus insects, reptiles that spontaneous breed
, 28From such a solitude as mine are freed,
29And I (O my sad heart) and only I
30Must in this sad confinement living die.
31The swiftest dolphin and the vastest whale
32Are not immured
as I, in wall or pale
, 33But every sort of fish, even as they please,
34Do dive and swim about the spacious seas;
35Though the dull oyster from a rock is torn,
36Yet she with sails, and wind, and tide is borne
37O’er all the swelling billows at her pleasure
38Until the cunning crab on her takes seizure;
39The flying fish, though she doth oft despair,
40Yet she commands the seas and vaster air;
41And those fair birds
which hover still above, 42Which are so far indulgent to their love
43To let their females lay upon their back:
44No noble freedom surely they can lack,
45Nor do they fear the terriblest tyrant’s lour
46Should shut them in a bastille
or a tower, 47For they disdain to touch this dunghill
earth; 48Thus they enjoy the freedom of their birth,
49But I to solitude am still confined:
50The cruelest curb unto a noble mind.
51The halcyon
that calms the ruffling seas 52Is not restrained, but flies where’er she please;
53Nor doth the swan, on Thames
her silver breast
, 54Ask leave to rise off from her downy nest;
55The rav’nous ravens
, deaf to their young ones’ cry, 56May in the spacious air most freely fly;
57But I above my life my children love,
58Yet I, to comfort them, cannot remove
. 59The foolish ostrich
doth her eggs expose 60To thousand dangers ere they do disclose
, 61Yet proudly she by wind and wing is born;
62The swiftest horse and rider she doth scorn.
63But I, for mine
, would willingly dissolve
, 64Yet sad obscurity doth me involve
. 65The mild and tenderhearted turtledove
66That was so constant to her only love,
67Though she resolves to have no second make
, 68Yet she her flight about the air doth take;
69But I, that am more constant than this dove
70Unto my first and last and only love,
71Cannot from this sad place (ay me) remove.
72The cuckoo
that doth put her eggs to nurse, 73Then eats their foster brothers, which is worse,
74Yet this cursed emblem of ingratitude
75Is not like me enslaved to solitude.
76All volatiles
, from the eagle to the dove, 77Their freedom freely both enjoy and love,
78But I no liberty expect to have
79Until I find my freedom in my grave.
80The swiftest su
no liberty can lack 81That bears her sprightly offspring on her back;
82The canibal
, when she the huntsman hears, 83Her pretty younglings in a wallet
bears; 84Thus from pursuers they are all secure,
85But these sad shades
doth me (ay me) immure, 86That I cannot assist mine
in their sorrow, 87Which makes me sigh and weep both eve and morrow.
88The lion, tiger, elephant, and bear,
89And thousands more, do no confinement fear.
90Thus beasts, birds, fishes, equivocal worm and fly
91Enjoy more liberty (woe’s me!) than I.
92Wer’t
for my God, King, country, or my friend, 93My love, my children, ’twere a noble end;
94Or wer’t for sin, my guilty head I would hide
95And patiently the stroke of death abide;
96Or wer’t my venial slips to expiate
, 97Then my restraint would have a happy date
; 98Or wer’t for debt, I soon could pay that score:
99But ’tis, O my sad soul—I’ll say no more.
100To God alone my suff’rings I’ll deplore
.