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They fang, as blithe as finches fing That flutter loose on golden wing,
And frolio where they lift; Strangers to liberty, 'tis true, But that delight they never knew,
And, therefore, never miss’d.
The open windows seem'd to invite The freeman to a farewell flight;
But Tom was still confin'd; And Dick, although his way was clear, Was much too gen'rous and sincere
To leave his friend behind.