The Maids of Portugal

Mr E. Elliott


The sun gleams on Lisbon’s tow’rs,
And gilding fair Cintra’s bow’rs,
His last bright rays o’er ocean shining
 Are fast declining
To western worlds inclining.
 Oh sweet banks of Tejo’s stream,
  Where are scenes serener, fairer!
 Oh sweet maids for poet’s theme
  Where are nymphs of beauty rarer!


With forms of grace like fairies light,
With eyes that shine like planets bright,
Thro’ orange groves by twilight playing,
 Night’s reign delaying,
See loveliest nymphs are straying.
 Oh sweet banks of Tejo’s stream,
  Ever let me wander near ye!
 Oh sweet maids for poet’s theme,
  Let your smiles for ever cheer me!


All lands their own dear maids extol,
Love’s ruling pow’r confess’d by all;
The prize of beauty each desiring,
 To shine aspiring,
Tho’ diff’rent charms admiring.
 But our nymphs of olive hue,
  Oh they’re fairer than the fairest!
 Their dark eyes outshine the blue,
  Theirs to me is beauty rarest!