Lesbia Hath a Beaming eye
(Tune: Nora Crionna)
| TYPE | 3 - Complex Melody |
| TOPIC | Love |
| TUNE STRUCTURE | aba 8 bars |
| VERSE STRUCTURE | 2v 12v |
| TIME SIGNATURE | 68 |
| KEY SIGNATURE | ♭ |
| TONAL CENTRE | F |
| INCIPIT | GGGAGD'BGGGBABC'A |
| GENRE | Ballad |
| TEXT SOURCE | Thomas Moore, A Selection of Irish Melodies vol. 4 (Dublin, 1811) |
| TUNE SOURCE | as above |
| FIRST LINE | Lesbia hath a beaming eye |
| NOTATED INCIPIT | |
| The air, 'Nora Crionna', is among the oldest tunes in the modern Irish dance music canon. Although it was collected some twenty times before 1855, it appears to have been Stephenson's setting for Moore's poem which standardised it in the aural tradition. Before this publication only the A part allows for comparison between settings. The air was not previously sung. The images provided here are from an 1852 edition printed in Boston, USA by Oliver Ditson and Co. This publication demonstrates the diasporic interest in Moore's work. | |
Lesbia hath a beaming eyeLesbia 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 uponMy 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,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,Not a charm of beauty’s mouldPresumes to stay where nature placed it.Oh! my Nora’s gown for me,That floats as wild as mountain breezes,Leaving every beauty freeTo 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’dTo dazzle merely, or to wound us?Pillowed on my Nora’s heart,In safer slumber Love reposes—Bed of peace! whose roughest partIs but the crumpling of the roses.Oh! my Nora Creina dear,My mild, my artless Nora Creina!Wit, tho’ bright, Hath no such light,As warms your eyes, my Nora Creina.