The Robin's Complaint. Addressed to a Lady. CONFIN'D within this little cage I languish here in pain, Thus spend my strength in useless rage, My freedom to regain. Ah me, I find in vain I strive, I cannot force my way, Therefore this method I contrive, Of hope, my only ray. Mild pity in thy looks I see, Ah! let a captive move Thy gentle heart — I would be free, My mediator prove. 'Tis you, sweet maid, and only you, That can command my fate, Bid her, who is my goaler now, Unbar my prison gate. When free again to range the grove, Thy praises will I sing, With songs of gratitude and love Each rural shade shall ring. My faithful mate doth now repine, Let me her grief remove, Her downy throat shall join with mine Our gratitude to prove.