University of Virginia Library

'Tis told that Safie read the woes
Of Assad after evening's close,
When others coveted repose.
'Tis said she wept;—but tears will flow
In common at dissembled woe.

77

'Tis said she sigh'd;—but oft-times sighs
Will causeless in the bosom rise.
Oh! Safie mourn'd—when none was nigh
To chase the tear or check the sigh;—
When none was nigh to force a smile
To flutter on the cheek awhile,—
And make the mind forget its grief
In noisy mirth,—and find relief
A space,—although that space be brief!