| |
| LESBIA hath a beaming eye, | |
| But no one knows for whom it beameth; | |
| Right and left its arrows fly, | |
| But what they aim at no one dreameth. | |
| Sweeter ’tis to gaze upon | 5 |
| My Nora’s lid that seldom rises; | |
| Few its looks, but every one, | |
| Like unexpected light, surprises! | |
| Oh, my Nora Creina, dear, | |
| My gentle, bashful Nora Creina, | 10 |
| Beauty lies | |
| In many eyes, | |
| But Love in yours, my Nora Creina. | |
| |
| Lesbia wears a robe of gold; | |
| But all so close the nymph hath laced it, | 15 |
| Not a charm of beauty’s mould | |
| Presumes to stay where Nature placed it. | |
| Oh, my Nora’s gown for me, | |
| That floats as wild as mountain breezes, | |
| Leaving every beauty free | 20 |
| To sink or swell as Heaven pleases. | |
| Yes, my Nora Creina, dear, | |
| My simple, graceful Nora Creina, | |
| Nature’s dress | |
| Is loveliness— | 25 |
| The dress you wear, my Nora Creina. | |
| |
| Lesbia hath a wit refined; | |
| But when its points are gleaming round us, | |
| Who can tell if they’re designed | |
| To dazzle merely, or to wound us? | 30 |
| Pillowed on my Nora’s heart, | |
| In safer slumber Love reposes— | |
| Bed of peace! whose roughest part | |
| Is but the crumpling of the roses. | |
| Oh, my Nora Creina, dear, | 35 |
| My mild, my artless Nora Creina! | |
| Wit, though bright, | |
| Hath no such light | |
| As warms your eyes, my Nora Creina. | |
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