The Princess Elizabeth, when a prisoner at Woodstock, 1554

Will you hear how once repining
Great Eliza captive lay,
Each ambitious thought resigning,
Foe to riches, pomp, and sway?

While the nymphs and swains delighted
Tripp'd around in all their pride,
Envying joys by others slighted,
Thus the royal maiden cried:

'Bred on plains, or born in valleys,
Who would bid those scenes adieu?
Stranger to the arts of malice,
Who would ever courts pursue?

Malice never taught to treasure,
Censure never taught to bear;
Love is all the shepherd's pleasure;
Love is all the damsel's care.

How can they of humble station
Vainly blame the powers above
Or accuse the dispensation
Which allows them all to love?

Love, like air, is widely given;
Power nor chance can these restraint;
Truest, noblest, gifts of heaven!
Only purest on the plain!

Peers can no such charms discover,
All in stars and garters drest,
As on Sundays does the lover,
With his nosegay on his breast.

Pinks and roses in profusion,
Said to fade when Chloe's near;
Fops may use the same allusion,
But the shepherd is sincere.

Hark to yonder milkmaid singing
Cheerly o'er the brimming pail,
Cowslips all around her springing
Sweetly paint the golden vale.

Never yet did courtly maiden
Move so sprightly, look so fair;
Never breast with jewels laden
Pour a song so void of care.

Would indulgent heaven had granted
Me some rural damsel's part!
All the empire I had wanted
Then had been my shepherd's heart.

Then with him o'er hills and mountains
Free from fetters, might I rove,
Fearless taste the crystal fountains,
Peaceful sleep beneath the grove.

Rustics had been more forgiving,
Partial to my virgin bloom;
None had envied my when living,
None had triumph'd o'er my tomb.'