The Maid of Dunstable


Where o’er the hills, and white as snow,
The channel’d road resounding lies,
And curling from the vale below,
The morning-mists in columns rise;
Blithe at their doors, where glanced the sun,5
The busy maidens plied their trade;
And Dunstable may boast of one,
As fair as ever fancy made.
A transient glance on her sweet face,
Would bid the chastest bosom glow;10
But modesty’s resistless grace,
’Tis hers to feel, and hers to show.—
Pure be the cup which thou mayst sip;
May no false swain thy peace annoy;
May prudence guard thy cherry lip,15
And virtue lead thy steps to joy.


JSON What's this?
As you're browsing RC, you might see small buttons scattered on various pages. These buttons let you download that page's content in a ready-to-use data file! Learn more on our RC Data page.