To A Beautiful Milkmaid

A Melody, By Thomas Moore

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

My Nora's lid, that seldom rises;

Few her looks, but every one,

Like unexpected light surprises!

Oh, my Nora Creina dear,

My gentle, bashful Nora Creina,

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 lac'd it,

Not a charm of beauty's mould,

Presumes to say where nature plac'd it!

Oh! my Nora's gown for me,

That floats as wild as mountain breezes,

Leaving every beauty free

To sink or swell as heaven pleases!

Yes, my Nora Creina, dear!

My simple, graceful Nora Creina!

Nature's dress

Is loveliness—

The dress you wear, my Nora Creina!

Lesbia hath a wit refin'd,

But when its points are gleaming round us,

Who can tell if they're design'd

To dazzle merely, or to wound us?

Pillow'd 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!

My mild, my artless Nora Creina!

Wit, though bright,

Hath not the light

That warms your eyes, my Nora Creina!

In Pulchram Lactiferam

Carmen, Auctore Prout

Lesbia semper hinc et indè

            Occulorum tela movit;

Captat omnes, sed deindè

            Quis ametur nemo novit.

Palpebrarum, Nora cara,

            Lux tuarum non est foris,

Flamma micat ibi rara,

            Sed sinceri lux amoris.

Nora Creina sit regina,

            Vultu, gressu tam modesto!

Hæc, puellas inter bellas,

            Jure omnium dux esto!

Lesbia vestes auro graves

            Fert, et gemmis, juxta normam;

Gratiæ sed, eheu! Suaves

            Cinctam reliquêre formam.

Noræ tunicam præferres,

            Flant zephyro volantem;

Oculis et raptis erres

            Contemplando ambulantem!

Vesta Nora tam decorâ

            Semper indui memento,

Semper puræ sic naturæ

            Ibis tecta vestimento.

Lesbia mentis præfert lumen,

            Quod coruscat perlibenter;

Sed quis optet hoc acumen,

            Quando acupuncta detur?

Norae sinu cun recliner,

            Dormio luxuriosè,

Nil corrugat hoc pulvinar,

            Nisi crispæ ruga rosæ.

Nora blanda, lux amanda,

            Expers usque tenebrarum,

Tu cor mulces per tot dulces

            Dotes, fons illecebrarum!