 | The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth |  |
85
MABELLA.
The world is no longer the desert I deemed it,
While clouds of affliction had veiled it in gloom,
For the promise of Hope—though I lightly esteemed it,
For once has been faithful, and dressed it in bloom.
The eye of pure friendship is lighted to bless me,
And Love—Oh the truest of hearts is my own;
E'en Fame grows propitious, and deigns to caress me,
All smile on the minstrel, but Fortune alone.
While clouds of affliction had veiled it in gloom,
For the promise of Hope—though I lightly esteemed it,
For once has been faithful, and dressed it in bloom.
The eye of pure friendship is lighted to bless me,
And Love—Oh the truest of hearts is my own;
E'en Fame grows propitious, and deigns to caress me,
All smile on the minstrel, but Fortune alone.
Pure friendship—it beams from the eye of Mabella,
The angel of mercy, and daughter of song;
It lights up a zenith so brilliantly stellar,
I spurn the dull planet to which I belong.
But, ah! should a cloud rise again to obscure it,
Exhaled in the malice of Calumny's breath,
The sensitive pulse of my heart would endure it
A moment—and then find a refuge in death.
The angel of mercy, and daughter of song;
It lights up a zenith so brilliantly stellar,
I spurn the dull planet to which I belong.
But, ah! should a cloud rise again to obscure it,
Exhaled in the malice of Calumny's breath,
The sensitive pulse of my heart would endure it
A moment—and then find a refuge in death.
| The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth | |