Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE LASS OF THE HILL, by MARY JONES



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THE LASS OF THE HILL, by            
First Line: At the brow of a hill a fair shepherdess dwelt
Last Line: But remember the lass at the brow of the hill.
Subject(s): Deception


AT the brow of a hill a fair shepherdess dwelt,
Who the pangs of ambition or love ne'er had felt;
A few sober maxims still ran in her head,
That 'twas better to earn ere she ate her brown bread;
That to rise with the lark was conducive to health,
And to folks in a cottage contentment was wealth.

Young Roger that lived in the valley below,
Who at church and at market was reckoned a beau,
Would oftentimes try o'er her heart to prevail,
And rest on his pitchfork to tell her his tale;
Till his winning behaviour so wrought on her heart,
That, quite artless herself, she suspected no art.

He flattered, protested, he kneeled and implored,
And would lie with the grandeur and air of a lord;
Her eyes he commended with language well dressed,
And enlarged on the tortures he felt in his breast:
With his sighs and his tears he so softened her mind,
That, in downright compassion, to love she inclined.

But as soon as he'd melted the ice of her breast,
The heat of his passion that moment decreased;
And now he goes flaunting all over the vale,
And boasts of his conquest to Richard and Hal;
Though he sees her but seldom, he's always in haste,
And whenever he mentions her, makes her his jest.

All the day she goes sighing, and hanging her head,
And her thoughts are so pestered, she scarce earns her bread;
The whole village cries 'shame!' when a-milking she goes,
That so little affection is showed to the cows:
But she heeds not their railing, e'en let 'em rail on,
And a fig for the cows, now her sweetheart is gone.

Take heed, ye young virgins of Britain's fair isle,
How you venture your hearts for a look or a smile;
For young Cupid is artful, and virgins are frail,
And you'll find a false Roger in every vale,
Who to court you, and tempt you, will try all their skill;
But remember the lass at the brow of the hill.





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