University of California Berkeley 
 
PHILLIS t^HEATLEY 
 
THE POEMS 
 
 PHILLIS WHEATLEY 
 
 As they were originally published in London, 1773 
 
 Re published by R. R. and C. C. Wright 
 
 Philadelphia, Pa. 
 
 1909 
 
A. ftt. . fiook (flour? at 
 Printers 
 
Our purpose in republishing this little book of poems, a cen 
 tury and a quarter after the death of the author, is to acquaint 
 the present generation more thoroughly with her remarkable 
 genius. She was born in Africa, and at the age of eight 
 years was brought to America and sold into slavery to a 
 Mrs. John Wheatley in Boston. Within a year of her ar 
 rival she could read and write English, of which she was 
 previously in entire ignorance. She also acquired a knowl 
 edge of the classics, and developed a pleasing poetic style. 
 Before she was twenty her writings had attracted the at 
 tention of many literary people of England, and in 1773 a 
 volume of her poems was published in London. Since then 
 there have been many editions published; one in 1784 in 
 Boston, another in Albany, 1793; another in 1802, another in 
 1805, another 1816. Memoirs and Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 in 1834, 1835 and 1838. Her poems constituted the second 
 volume of Abbie Joseph La Valle's book, "The Negro 
 Equalled by few Europeans," in 1801. Besides these, many 
 separate poems have been published, perhaps the earliest being 
 in memory of George Whiteneld, printed in 1770. Many of her 
 poems were not published. She wrote a poem to George 
 Washington, which the general highly complimented, but 
 which he was too modest to publish. 
 
 Phillis Wheatley was married to a Mr. Peters, in Boston, 
 but died soon after in 1784, at about the age of thirty-one 
 years. Her. poems were written and published before her 
 marriage, and she was known as Phillis Wheatley rather than 
 Phillis W. Peters. 
 
og> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley {J 
 
 Phillis Wheatley served as no one of her day could to 
 prove conclusively the capacity for the highest culture on the 
 part of the Negro race. The day of contentions on this sub 
 ject has passed and there is no need for any defence along^ 
 this line. But her name and works should never perish ; 
 they should always be cherished -most warmly by the 
 members of her race, and the lovers of literature generally. 
 Her poems stand for themselves. They show a mind of re 
 finement, highly religious with strong convictions as to the 
 life after death and the felicity of the departed good. 
 
 Her language shows the grade of her reading, and its wide 
 range. She was surprisingly familiar with the Bible and with 
 the classics, while her poems show that she was also a care 
 ful observer of Nature. 
 
 We have adhered, as closely as possible, to the quaint forms 
 and usages which occur in the earliest edition, thinking that 
 these may possess something of interest and charm for the 
 student of literature, while they can scarcely prove of ma 
 terial disadvantage to the casual reader. 
 
 RICHARD R. WRIGHT, JR., 
 CHARLOTTE CROGMAN WRIGHT. 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 First guhlifiljrr'B ]lrrfar*, IT? 3 
 
 The following Poems were written originally for the 
 Amusement of the Author, as they were the Products of 
 her leisure Moments. She had no Intention ever to have 
 published them ; nor would they now have made their Ap 
 pearance, but at the Importunity of many of her best and 
 most generous Friends, to whom she considers herself, as un 
 der the greatest Obligations. 
 
 As her Attempts in Poetry are now sent into the World, it 
 is hoped the Critic will not severely censure their Defects ; 
 and we presume they have too much Merit to be cast aside 
 with Contempt, as worthless and trifling Effusions. 
 
 As to the Disadvantages she has labored under, with re 
 gard to Learning, nothing needs to be offered, as her Mas 
 ter's Letter in the following Page will sufficiently show the 
 Difficulties in this Respect she had to encounter. 
 
 With all their Imperfections, the Poems are now humbly 
 submitted to the Perusal of the Public. 
 
 4Hr. 
 
 The following is a copy of a Letter sent by the Author's 
 Master to the Publisher: 
 
 Phillis was brought from Africa to America, in the year 
 1761, between seven and eight Years of age, without any as 
 sistance from School Education, and by only what she was 
 taught in the Family, she in sixteen Months' Time from her 
 arrival, attained the English Language, to which she was an 
 utter Stranger before ; to such a Degree, as to read any, the 
 most difficult parts of the Sacred Writings, to the great As 
 tonishment of all who heard her. 
 
 As to her Writing, her own Curiosity led her to it ; and this 
 she learned in so short a Time, that in the year 1765, she wrote 
 a Letter to the Rev. Mr. Occom, the Indian Minister, while in 
 England. 
 
 She has a great Inclination to learn the Latin Tongue, and 
 has made some Progress in it. This Relation is given by 
 her Master, who brought her, and with whom she now lives. 
 
 JOHN WHEATLEY. 
 
 Boston, November 14, 1772. 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 As it has been Repeatedly suggested to the Publisher by 
 Persons who have seen the Manuscript, that Numbers would 
 be ready to suspect that they were not really the Writings of 
 PHIUJS, he has procured the following Attestations from the 
 most respectable Characters in Boston, that none might have 
 the least Ground for disputing their Originality: 
 
 We, whose Names are Underwritten, do assure the World, 
 that the POEMS specified in the following Page* (the words 
 "following Page," allude to the Contents of the Manuscript 
 Copy, which are wrote at the back of the above Attestation), 
 were (as we verily believe) written by Phillis, a young Negro 
 Girl, who was but a few Years since, brought an uncultivated 
 Barbarian from Africa, and has ever since been, and now is, 
 under the Disadvantage c-f serving as a Slave in a Family in 
 this Town. She has been examined by some of the best 
 Judges, and is thought qualified to write them. 
 His Excellency, Thomas Hutchinson, Governor 
 The Hon. Andrew Oliver, Lieutenant-Governor 
 The Hon. Thomas Hubbard Mr. John Wheatley, her Master 
 The Hon. John Erving The Rev. Charles Channey, D.D. 
 
 The Hon. James Pitts The Rev. Mather Boyles, D.D. 
 
 The Hon. Harrison Gray The Rev. Ed. Pemberton, D.D. 
 The Hon. James Bowdoin The Rev. Andrew Elliot, D.D. 
 John Hancock, Esq. The Rev. Samuel Cooper, D.D. 
 
 Joseph Green, Esq. The Rev. Mr. Samuel Mather 
 
 Richard Carey, Esq. The Rev. Mr. John Moorhead 
 
 N. B. The original Attestation, signed by the above Gen 
 tlemen, may be seen by applying to Archibald Bell, Bookseller, 
 No. 8 Aldgate Street. 
 
of 
 
 FRONTISPIECE, PORTRAIT PHILIPS WHEATLEY 
 
 PUBLISHERS' NOTE ............................ ---- ...... 3 
 
 FIRST PUBLISHERS' PREFACE, 1773 ........................ 5 
 
 MR. WHEATLEY'S LETTER ................................ 5 
 
 To THE PUBLIC ........................................ 6 
 
 To MAECENAS .......................................... 7 
 
 ON VIRTUE ............................................. 9 
 
 To THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE, IN NEW ENGLAND ...... 10 
 
 To THE KING'S MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY, 1768 .......... 12 
 
 ON BEING BROUGHT FROM AFRICA TO AMERICA ............ 12 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF REV. DR. SEWELL, 1769 ................ T 3 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF THE REV. MR. GEORGE WHITEFH&D 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY OF FIVE YEARS OF AGE. . 17 
 ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG GENTLEMAN ................ 19 
 
 To A LADY ON THE DEATH OF HER HUSBAND .............. 20 
 
 GOLIATH OF GATH ...................................... 21 
 
 THOUGHTS ON THE WORKS OF PROVIDENCE ................ 3* 
 
 To A LADY ON THE DEATH OF THREE RELATIONS . . . ....... 36 
 
 To A CLERGYMAN ON THE DEATH OF His LADY ............ 38 
 
og> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <g> 
 
 AN HYMN TO THE MORNING 40 
 
 AN HYMN TO THE EVENING 41 
 
 ISAIAH Ixiii : 1-8 42 
 
 ON RECOLLECTION 43 
 
 ON IMAGINATION 45 
 
 A FUNERAL POEM ON THE DEATH OF C. E., AN INFANT OF 
 
 TWELVE MONTHS 48 
 
 To CAPTAIN H D, OF THE 65TH REGIMENT 50 
 
 To THE RIGHT HONORABLE WILLIAM, EARL OF DARTMOUTH, 
 His MAJESTY'S SECRETARY OF STATE FOR NORTH 
 AMERICA, ETC 50 
 
 ODE TO NEPTUNE 52 
 
 To A LADY ON HER COMING TO NORTH AMERICA WITH HER 
 
 SON, FOR THE RECOVERY OF HER HEALTH 53 
 
 To A LADY ON HER REMARKABLE PRESERVATION IN A HUR 
 RICANE IN NORTH-CAROLINA 55 
 
 To A LADY AND HER CHILDREN, ON THE DEATH OF HER SON 
 AND THEIR BROTHER 56 
 
 To A GENTLEMAN AND LADY ON THE DEATH OF THE LADY'S 
 BROTHER AND SISTER, AND A CHILD OF THE NAME OF 
 Avis, AGED ONE YEAR 58 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF DR. SAMUEL MARSHALL, 1771 59 
 
 To A GENTLEMAN ON His VOYAGE TO GREAT BRITAIN FOR 
 THE RECOVERY OF His HEALTH . . 61 
 
g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <g 
 
 To THE REV. DR. THOMAS ARMORY ON READING His 
 SERMONS ON DAILY DEVOTION, IN WHICH THAT DUTY 
 
 is RECOMMENDED AND ASSISTED 62 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF J. C, AN INFANT 64 
 
 AN HYMN TO HUMANITY 66 
 
 To THE HONORABLE T. H., ESQ., ON THE DEATH OF His 
 DAUGHTER 68 
 
 NIOBE IN DISTRESS FOR HER CHILDREN SLAIN BY APOLLO, 
 FROM OVID'S METAMORPHOSES, BOOK vi, AND FROM A 
 
 VIEW OF THE PAINTING OF MR. RICHARD WILSON 70 
 
 To S. M., A YOUNG AFRICAN PAINTER, ON SEEING His 
 
 WORKS 79 
 
 To His HONOUR THE LIEUTENANT-GOVERNOR, ON THE DEATH OF 
 
 His LADY, MARCH 24, 1773 81 
 
 A FAREWELL TO AMERICA 83 
 
 A REBUS BY I. B 86 
 
 AN ANSWER TO I. B,, BY PHILLIS WHEATLEY.. . 88 
 
on 
 
 an iHarrntas 
 
 Maecenas, yon, beneath the myrtle shade 
 Read o'er what poets sung, and shepherds play'd. 
 What felt those poets but you feel the same? 
 Does not your soul possess the sacred flame? 
 Their noble strains your equal genius shares 
 In softer language, and diviner airs. 
 
 While Homer paints, lo ! circumf us'd in air, 
 Celestial Gods in mortal forms appear; 
 Swift as they move hear each recess rebound, 
 Heav'n quakes, earth trembles, and the shores 
 
 resound. 
 
 Great sire of verse, before my mortal eyes, 
 The lightnings blaze across the vaulted skies, 
 And, as the thunder shakes the heav'nly plains, 
 A deep felt horror thrills through all my veins. 
 When gentler strains demand thy graceful song, 
 The lengthening line moves languishing along. 
 When great Patroclus courts Achilles' aid, 
 The grateful tribute of my tears is paid; 
 Prone on the shore he feels the pangs of love, 
 
 7 
 
<g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <g 
 
 And stern P elides tend' rest passions move. 
 
 Great Metro's strain in heav'nly numbers flows, 
 The Nine inspire, and all the bosom glows, 
 O, could I rival thine and Virgil's page, 
 Or claim the Muses with the Mantuan sage; 
 Soon the same beauties should my mind adorn, 
 And the same ardors in my soul should burn ; 
 Then should my song in bolder notes arise, 
 And all my numbers pleasingly surprise; 
 But here I sit, and mourn a grov'ling mind, 
 That fain would mount, and ride upon the wind. 
 
 Not you, my friend, these plaintive strains be 
 come, 
 
 Not vou, whose bosom is the Muses' home; 
 When they from tow'ring Helicon retire, 
 They fan in you the bright immortal fire, 
 But I less happy, cannot raise the song, 
 The fault'ring music dies upon my tongue. 
 
 The happier Terence* all the choir inspired, 
 His soul replenished, and his bosom fir'd; 
 But say, ye Muses., why this partial grace 
 To one alone in Afric's sable race; 
 From age to age transmitting thus his name 
 With the first glory in the rolls of fame ? 
 
 *He was an African by birth. 
 
 8 
 
<g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <g 
 
 Thy virtues, great Maecenas! shall be sung 
 In praise of him, from whom those virtues sprung; 
 While blooming wreaths around thy temples spread, 
 I'll snatch a laurel from thine honor'd head, 
 While you indulgent smile upon the deed. 
 
 As long: as Thames in streams majestic flows, 
 Or Naiads in their oozy beds repose, 
 While Phoebus reigns above the starry train 
 While bright Aurora purples o'er the main, 
 So long, great Sir, the muse thy praise shall sing, 
 .So long thy praise shall make Parnassus ring ; 
 Then grant Maecenas, thy paternal rays, 
 Hear me propitious, and defend my lays. 
 
 n TJtrto 
 
 O Thou bright jewel in my aim I strive 
 
 To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare 
 
 Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach. 
 
 I^cease to wonder, and no more attempt 
 
 Thine height t' explore, or fathom thy profound, 
 
 But, O, my soul, sink not into despair, 
 
 Virtue is near thee, and with gentle hand 
 
 Would now embrace thee, hovers o'er thine head. 
 
 Fain would the heav'n-born soul with her converse, 
 
 9 
 
g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <g> 
 
 Then seek, then court her for her promis'd bliss, 
 
 Auspicious queen, thine heav'nly pinions spread,. 
 And lead celestial Chastity along; 
 Lo! now her sacred retinue descends, 
 Array'd in glory from the orbs above. 
 Attend me, Virtue, thro' my youthful years! 
 O leave me not to the false joys of time! 
 But guide my steps to endless life and bliss. 
 Greatness, or Goodness, say what I shall call thee, 
 To give an higher appellation still, 
 Teach me a better strain, a nobler lay, 
 O thou, enthron'd with Cherubs in the realms of 
 day. 
 
 , n 
 
 While an intrinsic ardor prompts to write, 
 The muses promise to assist my pen ; 
 'Twas not long since I left my native shore 
 The land of errors, and Egyptian gloom : 
 Father of mercy, 'twas thy gracious hand 
 Brought me in safety from those dark abodes. 
 
 Students, to you 'tis giv'n to scan the heights- 
 Above, to traverse the ethereal space, 
 And mark the systems of revolving worlds. 
 
 10 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 Still more, ye sons of science, ye receive 
 The blissful news by messengers from heav'n 
 How Jesus' blood for your redemption flows. 
 See Him with hands outstretched upon the cross - 
 Immense compassion in His bosom glows ; 
 He hears revilers, nor resents their scorn; 
 What matchless mercy in the Son of God ! 
 When the whole human race by sin had fall'n, 
 He deign'd to die that they might rise again, 
 And share with Him in the sublimest skies, 
 Life without death, and glory without end. 
 Improve your privileges while they stay, 
 Ye pupils, and each hour redeem, that bears 
 Or good or bad report of you to heav'n. 
 Let sin, that baneful evil to the soul, 
 By you be shunned, nor once remit your guard ;. 
 Suppress the deadly serpent in its egg. 
 Ye blooming plants of human race divine, 
 An Ethiop tells you 'tis your greatest foe; 
 Its transient sweetness turns to endless pain, 
 And in immense perdition sinks the soul. 
 
 11 
 
-g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley {J 
 tlf? SCntg'fi JBflfii Exrrllimt iia^atg, 1T6H 
 
 Your subjects hope, dread Sire 
 
 The crown upon your brows may flourish long, 
 And that your arm may in your God be strong ! 
 O, may your sceptre num'rous nations sway, 
 And all with love and readiness obey! 
 
 But how shall we the British, King reward ? 
 Rule thou in peace, our father, and our lord! 
 Midst the remembrance of thy favors past, 
 The meanest peasants most admire the last.* 
 May George, beloved by all the nations round, 
 Live with heav'n's choicest constant blessings 
 
 crown'd ! 
 
 'Great God, direct, and guard him from on high, 
 And from his head let ev'ry evil fly! 
 And may each clime with equal gladness see 
 A monarch's smile can set his subjects free ! 
 
 tt bring bnwglji fmm Afrira ia Ammra, 
 
 "'Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land, 
 Taught my benighted soul to understand 
 That there's a God, that there's a Saviour too ; 
 'Once I redemption neither sought nor knew, 
 Some view our sable race with scornful eye, 
 "Their color is a diabolic die." 
 Remember, Christians, Negroes, black as Cain, 
 May be refined, and join th' angelic train. 
 
 * The repeal of the Stamp Act. 
 
 12 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 Sr. 
 
 Ere yet the morn its lovely blushes spread, 
 
 See Seivell number'd with the happy dead. 
 
 Hail, holy man, arriv'd th' immortal shore, 
 
 Though we shall hear thy warning voice no more r 
 
 Come, let us all behold with wishful eyes 
 
 The saint ascending to his native skies; 
 
 From hence the prophet wing'd his rapt'rous way 
 
 To the blest mansions in eternal day. 
 
 Then begging for the Spirit of our God, 
 
 And panting eager for the same abode, 
 
 Come, let us all with the same vigour rise, 
 
 And take a prospect of the blissful skies ; 
 
 While on our minds Christ's image is imprest. 
 
 And the dear Saviour glows in ev'ry breast. 
 
 Thrice happy saint! to find thy heav'n at last, 
 
 What compensation for the evils past; 
 
 Great God, incomprehensible, unknown 
 By sense, we bow at thine exalted throne. 
 O, while we beg Thine excellence to feel, 
 Thy sacred Spirit to our hearts reveal, 
 And give us of that mercy to partake, 
 Which Thou hast promised for the Saviour's sake? 
 
 13 
 
B> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <S> 
 
 "Sewell is dead." Swift-pinion'd Fame thus cry'd, 
 "Is Sewell dead?" my trembling tongue reply'd, 
 O, what a blessing in his flight deny'd! 
 How oft for us that holy prophet pray'd! 
 How oft to us the Word of Life convey'd! 
 By duty urg'd my mournful verse to close, 
 I for his tomb this epitaph compose. 
 
 "Lo, here a man, redeem'd by Jesus' blood, 
 '"A sinner once, but now a saint with God; 
 '"Behold ye rich, ye poor, ye fools, ye wise, 
 "Nor let his monument your heart surprise; 
 
 'Twill tell you what this holy man has done, 
 "Which gives him brighter lustre than the sun. 
 "Listen, ye happy, from your seats above. 
 "I speak sincerely, while I speak and love, 
 "He sought the paths of piety and truth, 
 "By these made happy from his early youth; 
 "In glooming years that grace divine he felt, 
 "Which rescues sinners from the chains of guilt. 
 "Mourn him, ye indigent, whom he has fed, 
 "And henceforth seek, like him, for living bread; 
 '"Ev'n Christ, the bread descending from above, 
 *'And ask an interest in his saving love. 
 "Mourn him, ye youth, to whom he oft has told 
 "God's gracious wonders from the times of old. 
 
 14 
 
<g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 "I too have cause this mighty loss to mourn, 
 "For he, my monitor, will not return. 
 "O when shall we to his blest state arrive? 
 ""When the same graces in our bosoms thrive." 
 
 n tlj? 5?atlj 0f tire Ikti. JHr. 
 
 irra 
 
 Hail, happy saint, on thine immortal throne, 
 Possest of glory, life and bliss unknown; 
 We hear no more the music of thy tongue, 
 Thy wonted auditories cease to throng. 
 Thy sermons in unequall'd accents flow'd, 
 And ev'ry bosom with devotion glow'd ; 
 Thou didst in strains of eloquence refin'd 
 Inflame the heart and captivate the mind. 
 Unhappy we the setting sun deplore, 
 So glorious once, but ah ! it shines no more. 
 
 Behold the prophet in his tow 'ring flight! 
 He leaves the earth for heav'n's unmeasured height, 
 And worlds unknown receive him from our sight. 
 There Whitefield wings with rapid course his way, 
 And sails to Zion through vast seas of day. 
 Thy pray'rs, great saint, and thine incessant cries 
 
 15 
 
og> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley < 
 
 Have pierc'd the bosom of thy native skies. 
 Thou moon hast seen, and all the stars of light, 
 How he has wrestled with his God by night. 
 He pray'd that grace in ev'ry heart might dwell, 
 He long'd to see America excel: 
 He charg'd its youth that ev'ry grace divine 
 Should with full lustre in their conduct shine; 
 That Saviour, which his soul did first receive, 
 The greatest gift that ev'n a God can give, 
 He freely offer'd to the num'rous throng, 
 That on his lips with list'ning pleasure hung. 
 
 "Take him, ye wretched, for your only good, 
 "Take him, ye starving sinners, for your food. 
 "Ye thrifty, come to this life-giving stream, 
 "Ye preachers, take him for your joyful theme; 
 "Take him my dear Americans, he said, 
 "Be your complaints on his kind bosom laid ; 
 "Take him, ye Africans, he longs for yon, 
 ''Impartial Saviour is his title due; 
 "Washed in the fountain of redeeming blood, 
 "You shall be sons and kings, and priests to God.' r 
 
 Great Countess,* we Americans revere 
 Thy name, and mingle in thy grief sincere ; 
 New England deeply feels, the Orphans mourn, 
 
 *The Countess of Huntingdon, to whom Mr. Whitefield was chaplaian. 
 
 16 
 
} The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 Their more than father will no more return. 
 But, though arrested by the hand of death, 
 Whit eft eld no more exerts his lab' ring breath. 
 Yet let us view him in th' eternal skies, 
 Let ev'ry heart to this bright vision rise; 
 While the tomb safe retains its sacred trust, 
 Till life divine re-animates his dust. 
 
 iljr S?atlj of a IJomtri IGabij of 
 ears of A0? 
 
 From dark abodes to fair ethereal light 
 
 Th' enraptured innocent has wing'd her flight;: 
 
 On the kind bosom of eternal love 
 
 She finds unknown beatitude above. 
 
 This known, ye parents, nor her loss deplore, 
 
 She feels the iron hand of pain no more; 
 
 The dispensations of unerring grace, 
 
 Should turn your sorrows into grateful praise;: 
 
 Let then no tears for her henceforward flow, 
 
 No more distress in our dark vale below, 
 
 Her morning sun, which rose divinely bright,- 
 Was quickly mantled with the gloom of night; 
 But hear in heav'n's blest bow'rs your Nancy fair, 
 And learn to imitate her language there. 
 
 17 
 
> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <3> 
 
 "Thou, Lord, whom I behold with glory crown'd 
 "By what sweet name, and in what tuneful sound 
 "Wilt thou be prais'd? Seraphic pow'rs are faint, 
 "Infinite love and majesty to paint. 
 "To thee let all their graceful voices raise, 
 "And saints and angels join their songs of praise." 
 
 Perfect in bliss she from her heav'nly home 
 Looks down, and smiling beckons you to come; 
 Why then, fond parents, why these fruitless groans ? 
 Restrain your tears, and cease your plaintive moans, 
 Freed from a world of sin, and snares, and pain, 
 Why would you wish your daughter back again? 
 No bow resign'd. Let hope your grief control, 
 And check the rising tumult of the soul. 
 Calm in the prosperous, and adverse day, 
 Adore the God who gives and takes away ; 
 Eye him in all, His holy name revere, 
 Upright your actions and your hearts sincere, 
 Till having sail'd through life's tempestuous sea, 
 And from its rocks, and boist'rous billows free, 
 Yourselves, safe landed on the blissful shore, 
 Shall join your happy babe to part no more. 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 n ilje Ifcatlj of a fnuttg 
 
 Who taught thee conflict with the pow'rs of night, 
 To vanquish Satan in the fields of fight? 
 Who strung thy feeble arms with might unknown, 
 How great thy conquest, and how bright thy crown ! 
 War with each princedom, throne and pow'r is o'er, 
 The scene is ended to return no more. 
 O, could my muse thy seat on high behold, 
 How decked with laurel, how enrich'd with gold ! 
 O could she hear what praise thine harp employs, 
 How sweet thine anthems, how divine thy joys ! 
 What heav'nly grandeur should exalt her strain! 
 What holy raptures in her numbers reign! 
 To soothe the troubles of the mind to peace, 
 To still the tumult of life's tossing seas, 
 To ease the anguish of the parent heart, 
 What shall my sympathizing verse impart? 
 Where is the balm to heal so deep a wound? 
 Where shall a sovereign remedy be found? 
 Look, gracious Spirit, from thine heav'nly bow'r, 
 And thy full joys into their bosoms pour; 
 
 19 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 The raging tempest of their grief control, 
 And spread the dawn of glory through the soul, 
 To eye the path the saint departed trod, 
 And trace him to the bosom of his God. 
 
 a Cafcg 0n tlj? Ifcatlj nf l$ 
 
 Grim monarch ! see, deprived of vital breath 
 A young physician in the dust of death! 
 Dost thou go on incessant to destroy? 
 The grief to double and lay waste the joy? 
 Enough thou never yet wast known to say 
 Tho' millions die the vassals of thy sway. 
 Nor youth, nor science, nor the ties of love, 
 Nor aught on earth thy flinty heart can move. 
 The friend, the spouse, from his dire dart to save, 
 In vain we ask the sovereign of the grave. 
 Fair mourner, there see thy lov'd Leonard laid, 
 And o'er him spread the deep impervious shade; 
 Clos'd are his eyes and heavy fetters keep 
 His senses bound in never-waking sleep, 
 Till time shall cease, till many a starry world, 
 Shall fall from heav'n, in dire confusion huiTd; 
 Till Nature in her final wreck shall lie, 
 Till her last groan shall rend the azure sky : 
 
 20 
 
g The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <g 
 
 Not till then his active soul shall claim, 
 His body, a divine immortal frame. 
 
 But, see the softly stealing tears apace, 
 Pursue each other down the mourner's face ; 
 But cease thy tears, bid ev'ry sigh depart, 
 And cast the load of anguish from thine heart; 
 From the cold shell of his great soul arise, 
 And look beyond, thou native of the skies ! 
 There fix thy view where fleeter than the wind 
 Thy Leonard mounts, and leaves the earth behind. 
 Thyself prepare to pass the vale of night. 
 To join forever on the hills of light; 
 To thine embrace, this joyful spirit moves, 
 To thee, the partner of his earthly loves ; 
 He welcomes thee to pleasures more refin'd 
 And better suited to th' immortal mind. 
 
 <&0ltaitj of (Saih 
 
 I Samuel, Chapter XVTI 
 
 Ye martial pow'rs, and all ye tuneful nine. 
 Inspire my song, and aid my high design. 
 The dreadful scenes and toils of war I write, 
 The ardent warriors, and the fields of fight: 
 You best remember, and you best can sing 
 
 21 
 
og> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley { 
 
 The acts of heroes to the vocal string: 
 Resume the lays with which your sacred lyre, 
 Did then the poet and the sage inspire. 
 
 Now front to front the armies were display'd, 
 Here Israel rang'd, and there the foes array'd; 
 The hosts on two opposing mountains stood, 
 Thick as the foliage of the waving wood; 
 Between them an extensive valley lay, 
 O'er which the gleaming armor pour'd the day, 
 When from the camp of the Philistine foes, 
 Dreadful to view, a mighty warrior rose; 
 In the dire deeds of bleeding battle skill'd, 
 The monster stalks the terror of the field. 
 From Gath he sprung, Goliath was his name, 
 Of fierce deportment, and gigantic frame : 
 A brazen helmet on his head was plac'd, 
 A coat of mail his form terrific grac'd, 
 The greaves his legs, the targe his shoulders prest 
 Dreadful in arms high-tow'ring o'er the rest 
 A spear he proudly wav'd, whose iron head, 
 Strange to relate, six hundred shekels weigh'd; 
 He strode along and shook the ample field, 
 While Phoebus blaz'd refulgent on his shield : 
 Through Jacob's race a chilling horror ran, 
 When thus the huge, enormous chief began: 
 
 22 
 
} The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <g 
 
 ''Say, what the cause that in this proud array 
 "You set your battle in the face of day? 
 "One hero find in all your vaunting train, 
 "Then see who loses, and who wins the plain; 
 "For he who wins, in triumph may demand 
 "Perpetual service from the vanquished land: 
 "Your armies I defy, your force despise, 
 "By far inferior in Philistia's eyes: 
 "Produce a man, and let us try the fight, 
 "Decide the contest, and the victor's right." 
 
 Thus challeng'd he; all Israel stood amaz'd, 
 And ev'ry chief in consternation gaz'd; 
 But Jesse's son in youthful bloom appears, 
 And warlike courage far beyond his years: 
 He left the folds, he left the flow'ry meads, 
 And soft recesses of the sylvan shades. 
 Now Israel's monarch, and his troops arise, 
 With peals of shouts ascending to the skies; 
 In El all's vale the scene of combat lies, 
 
 When the fair morning flushed with Orient red, 
 What David's sire enjoin'd the son obey'd, 
 And swift of foot towards the trench he came, 
 Where glow'd each bosom with the martial flame,- 
 He leaves his carriage to another's care, 
 And runs to greet his brethren of the war, 
 
 23 
 
} The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <Q> 
 
 While yet they spake the giant-chief arose, 
 Repeats the challenge, and insults his foes : 
 Struck with the sound, and trembling at the view, 
 Affrighted Israel from its post withdrew. 
 "Observe ye this tremendous foe, they cry'd, 
 '"Who in proud vaunts our armies hath defy'd : 
 ""Whoever lays him prostrate on the plain, 
 ""Freedom in Israel for his house shall gain; 
 "And on him wealth unknown the king will pour, 
 "And give his royal daughter for his dow'r." 
 
 Then Jesse's youngest hope : "My brethren say, 
 "What shall be done for him who takes away 
 "Reproach from Jacob, who destroys the chief, 
 "And puts a period to his country's grief. 
 "He vaunts the honours of his arms abroad, 
 "And scorns the armies of the living God." 
 
 Thus spoke the youth, th' attentive people ey'd 
 The wond'rous hero, and again reply'd : 
 '"Such the rewards our monarch will bestow, 
 "On him who conquers, and destroys his foe." 
 
 Eliab heard, and kindled into ire 
 To hear his shepherd brother thus inquire, 
 And thus begun : "What errand brought thee ? say 
 -"Who keeps thy flock? or does it go astray? 
 "I know the base ambition of thine heart, 
 .back in safety from the field depart," 
 
 24 
 
og> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley ^ 
 
 Eliab thus to Jesse's youngest heir, 
 Express'd his wrath in accents most severe. 
 When to his brother mildly he reply'd, 
 "What have I done or what the cause to chide?" 
 
 The words were told before the king, who sent 
 For the young hero to his royal tent: 
 Before the monarch dauntless he began, 
 "For this Philistine fail no heart of man: 
 "I'll take the vale, and with the giant fight: 
 ""I dread not all his boasts, nor all his might." 
 When thus the king: "Darst thou a stripling go, 
 "And venture combat with so great a foe? 
 "Who all his days has been inurd to fight, 
 "And made its deeds his study and delight: 
 "Battles and bloodshed brought the monster forth, 
 ^'And clouds and whirlwinds usher'd in his birth." 
 When David thus: "I kept the fleecy care, 
 "And out there rush'd a liOn and a bear; 
 "A tender lamb the hungry lion took, 
 "And with no other weapon than my crook 
 "Both I pursu'd, and chas'd him o'er the field, 
 "The prey deliver'd, and the felon kill'd: 
 "As thus the lion and the bear I slew, 
 "So shall Goliath fall, and all his crew : 
 "The God, who sav'd me from these beasts of prey, 
 "By me this monster in the dust shall lay." 
 
 25 
 
g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley < 
 
 So David spoke: "The wond'ring king reply 'd; 
 "Go thou with heav'n and victory on thy side; 
 "This coat of mail, this sword gird on," he said, 
 And plac'd a mighty helmet on his head : 
 The coat, the sword, the helm he laid aside, 
 Nor chose to venture with those arms untry'd, 
 Then took his staff, and to the neighb'ring brook 
 Instant he ran, and thence five pebbles took, 
 Mean time descended to Philistia's son 
 A radiant cherub, and he thus begun: 
 "Goliath, well thou know'st thou hast defy'd : 
 "Yon Hebrew armies, and their God deny'd: 
 "Rebellious wretch! audacious worm! forbear, 
 "Nor tempt the vengeance of their God too far : 
 "Them, who with his Omnipotence contend, 
 "No eye shall pity, and no arm defend : 
 "Proud as thou art, in short liv'd glory great, 
 "I come to tell thee thine approaching fate. 
 "Regard my words. The judge of all the gods, 
 "Beneath whose steps the tow'ring mountain nods, 
 "Will give thine armies to the savage brood, 
 "That cut the liquid air or range the wood. 
 "Thee, too a well-aim'd pebble shall destroy, 
 "And thou shalt perish by a beardless boy : 
 
 26 
 
og> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <g 
 
 "Such is the mandate from the realms above, 
 "And should I try the vengeance to remove 
 "Myself a rebel to my king would prove. 
 "Goliath say, shall grace to him be shown, 
 "Who dares heav'ns Monarch, and insults his 
 throne?" 
 
 "Your words are lost on me," the giant cries, 
 While fear and wrath contended in his eyes, 
 When thus the messenger from heav'n replies : 
 "Provoke no more Jehovah's awful hand 
 "To hurl its vengeance on thy guilty land : 
 "He grasps the thunder, and, he wings the storm,. 
 "Servants their sov'reign's orders to perform." 
 The angel spoke, and turn'd his eyes away, 
 Adding new radiance to the rising day. 
 
 Now David comes : The fatal stones demand 
 His left, the staff engag'd his better hand : 
 The giant mov'd, and from his tow'ring height 
 Survey'd the stripling, and disdain'd the fight, 
 And thus began : "Am I a dog with thee ? 
 "Bring'st thou no armour, but a staff to me? 
 "The gods on thee their vollied curses pour, 
 "And beasts and birds of prey thy flesh devour." 
 
 David undaunted thus, "Thy spear and shield 
 "Shall no pretection to thy body yield: 
 
 27 
 
<g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley {> 
 
 ''Jehovah's name ... no other arms I bear, 
 "I ask no other in this glorious war. 
 "To-day the Lord of Hosts to me will give 
 "Vict'ry, to-day thy doom thou shalt receive ; 
 'The fate you threaten shall your own become, 
 "And beasts shall be your animated tomb, 
 "That all the earth's inhabitants may know 
 "That there's a God, who governs all below : 
 "This great assembly too shall witness stand, 
 "That needs nor sword, nor spear, th' Almighty's 
 
 hand : 
 
 'The battle his, the conquest he bestows, 
 "And to our pow'r consigns our hated foes." 
 
 Thus David spoke ; Goliath heard and came 
 To meet the hero in the field of fame. 
 Ah! fatal meeting to thy troops and thee, 
 But thou wast deaf to the divine decree: 
 Young David meets thee, meets thee not in vain; 
 Tis thine to perish on th' ensanguin'd plain. 
 
 And now the youth the forceful pebble flung, 
 Philistia trembled as it whizz'd along: 
 In his dread forehead, where the helmet ends, 
 Just o'er the brows the well-aim'd stone descends, 
 It pierc'd the skull, and shatter'd all the brain, 
 Prone on his face he tumbled to the plain : 
 
 28 
 
<g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <g> 
 
 Goliath's fall no smaller terror yields 
 
 Than riving thunders in aerial fields : 
 
 The soul still ling'red in its lov'd abode, 
 
 Till conq'ring David o'er the giant strode: 
 
 Goliath's sword then laid its master dead, 
 
 And from the body hew'd the ghastly head; 
 
 The blood in gushing torrents drench'd the plains. 
 
 The soul found passage through the spouting veins. 
 
 And now aloud the illustrious victor said, 
 "Where are your boastings now your champion's 
 
 dead?" 
 
 Scarce had he spoke when the Philistines fled : 
 But fled in vain; the conqu'ror swift pursu'd : 
 What scenes of slaughter ! and what seas of blood ! 
 There Saul thy thousands grasp'd th' impurpled 
 
 sand 
 
 In pangs of death the conquest of thine hand; 
 And David there were thy ten thousands laid : 
 Thus Israel's damsels musically play'd. 
 
 Near Gath and Ekron many an hero lay, 
 Breath'd out their souls, and curs'd the light of day; 
 Their fury quench'd by death, no longer burns, 
 And David with Goliath's head returns, 
 To Salem brought, but in his tent he plac'd 
 The load of armour which the giant grac'd, 
 
 29 
 
og> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley & 
 
 His monarch saw him coming from the war, 
 And thus demanded of the son of Ner. 
 "Say, who is this amazing youth?" he cry'd, 
 When thus the leader of the host reply'd: 
 "As lives thy soul I know not whence he sprung, 
 "So great in prowess though in years so young:" 
 '"Inquire whose son is he," the sov'reign said, 
 "Before whose conq'ring arm Philistia fled." 
 Before the king behold the stripling stand, 
 Goliath's head depending from his hand: 
 To him the king: "Say of what martial line 
 "Art thou, young hero, and what sire was thine?" 
 He humbly thus : "The son of Jesse I : 
 "I came the glories of the field to try, 
 "Small is my tribe, but valiant in the fight; 
 "Small is my city, but thy royal right." 
 "Then take the promis'd gifts," the monarch cry'd, 
 Conferring riches and the royal bride; 
 "Knit to my soul for ever thou remain 
 ""With me, nor quit my regal roof again." 
 
 30 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 0tt tlje Wnrks 0f 
 
 Arise, my soul, on wings enraptur'd, rise 
 
 To praise the monarch of the earth and skies, 
 
 Whose goodness and beneficence appear 
 
 As round its center moves the rolling year, 
 
 Or when the morning glows with rosy charms, 
 
 Or the sun slumbers in the ocean's arms; 
 
 Of light divine be a rich portion lent 
 
 To guide my soul, and favour my intent. 
 
 Celestial muse, my arduous flight sustain, 
 
 And raise my mind to a seraphic strain ! 
 
 Ador'd for ever be the God unseen, 
 Which round the sun revolves this vast machine, 
 Though to his eye its mass a point appears : 
 Ador'd the God that whirls surrounding spheres, 
 Which first ordain' d that mighty Sol should reign 
 The peerless monarch of th' ethereal train ; 
 Of miles twice forty millions in his height, 
 And yet his radiance dazzles mortal sight 
 So far beneath from him th' extended earth 
 Vigor derives, and ev'ry flow'ry birth : 
 Vast through her orb she moves with easy grare 
 Around her Phoebus in unbounded space ; 
 
 31 
 
<g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 True to her course th' impetuous storm derides, 
 Triumphant o'er the winds and surging tides. 
 
 Almighty, in these wond'rous works of thine, 
 What Poiv'r, what Wisdom, and what Goodness 
 
 shine ? 
 
 And are thy wonders, Lord, by men explored, 
 And yet creating glory unador'd ! 
 
 Creation smiles in various beauty gay, 
 While day to night, and night succeeds to day ; 
 That Wisdom which attends Jehovah's ways, 
 Shines most conspicuous in the solar rays; 
 Without them, destitute of heat and light, 
 This world would be the reign of endless night; 
 In their excess how would our race complain, 
 Abhoring life! how hate its lengthened chain! 
 From air adust what num'rous ills would rise? 
 What dire contagion taint the burning skies? 
 What pestilential vapours, fraught with death, 
 Would rise, and overspread the lands beneath? 
 
 Hail smiling: morn, that from the Orient main 
 Ascending dost adorn the heav'nly plain! 
 So rich, so various are thy beauteous dies, 
 That spread through all the circuit of the skies, 
 That, full of thee, my soul in rapture soars, 
 And thy great God, the cause of all adores. 
 
 32 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 O'er beings infinite his love extends, 
 His Wisdom rules them, and his Pow'r defends. 
 When tasks diurnal tire the human frame, 
 The spirits faint, and dim the vital flame, 
 Then too that ever active bounty shines, 
 Which not infinity of space confines. 
 The sable veil, that Night in silence draws, 
 Conceals effects, but shows th' Almighty Cause; 
 Night seals in sleep the wide creation fair. 
 And all is peaceful but the brow of care. 
 Again, gay Phoebus, as the day before, 
 Wakes ev'ry eye, but what shall wake no more;. 
 Again the face of nature is renew'd, 
 Which still appears harmonious, fair, and good. 
 May grateful strains salute the smiling morn, 
 Before its beams the eastern hill adorn! 
 
 Shall day to day, and night to night, conspire 
 To show the goodness of the Almighty Sire? 
 This mental voice shall man regardless hear,. 
 And never, never raise the filial pray'r? 
 To-day, O hearken, nor your folly mourn 
 For time misspent, that never will return. 
 
 But see the sons of vegetation rise, 
 And spread their leafy banners to the skies. 
 All-wise Almighty Providence do we trace 
 In trees, and plants, and all the flow'ry race ; 
 
 33 
 
} The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <S 
 
 As clear as in the nobler frame of man, 
 All lovely copies of the Maker's plan. 
 The pow'r the same that forms a ray of light, 
 That call'd creation from eternal night. 
 "Let there be light," he said ; from his profound 
 Old Chaos heard, and trembled at the sound : 
 Swift as the word, inspir'd by pow'r divine, 
 Behold the light around its Maker shine, 
 The first fair product of th' omnific God 
 And now through all his works diffus'd abroad. 
 As reason's pow'rs by day our God disclose, 
 So we may trace him in the night's repose: 
 Say what is sleep ? and dreams how passing strange ! 
 When action ceases, and ideas range 
 Licentious and unbounded o'er the plains, 
 Where Fancy's queen in giddy triumph reigns. 
 Hear in soft strains the dreaming lover sigh 
 To a kind fair, or rave in jealousy; 
 On pleasure now, and now on vengeance bent, 
 The lab' ring passions struggle for a vent. 
 What pow'r, O man ! thy reason then restores, 
 So long suspended in nocturnal hours? 
 What secret hand returns the mental train, 
 And gives improv'd thine active pow'rs again? 
 From thee, O man, what gratitude should rise 
 
 34 
 
<g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley Q> 
 
 And, when from balmy sleep thou op'st thine eyes, 
 Let thy first thoughts be praises to the skies. 
 How merciful our God who thus imparts 
 Overflowing tides of joy to human hearts, 
 When wants and woes might be our righteous lot, 
 Our God forgetting, by our God forgot! 
 
 Among the mental pow'rs a question rose, 
 "What most the image of th' Eternal shows?" 
 When thus to Reason (so let Fancy rove) 
 Her great companion spoke immortal Love. 
 
 "Say mighty pow'r, how long shall strife prevail, 
 "And with its murmurs load the whispering gale? 
 "Refer the cause to Recollection's shrine, 
 "Who loud proclaims my origin divine, 
 "The cause whence heav'n and earth began to be, 
 "And is not man immortaliz'd by me? 
 "Reason let this most causeless strife subside." 
 
 Thus Love pronounced, and Reason thus repli'd. 
 
 "Thy birth celestial queen! 'tis mine to own. 
 "In thee resplendent is the Godhead shown; 
 "Thy words persuade, my soul enraptur'd feels 
 "Resistless beauty which thy smile reveals." 
 Ardent she spoke, and, kindling at her charms, 
 She clasp'd the blooming goddess in her arms. 
 
 35 
 
} The Poems of Phillis Wheatley < 
 
 Infinite Love where'er we turn our eyes 
 Appears: this ev'ry creature's wants supplies; 
 This most is heard in Nature's constant voice, 
 This makes the morn, and this the eve rejoice; 
 This bids the fost'ring rains and dews descend 
 To nourish all, to serve one gen'ral end, 
 The good of man : yet man ungrateful pays 
 But little homage, and but little praise. 
 To him, whose works array'd with mercy shine, 
 What songs should rise, how constant, how divine! 
 
 3Jo a ffiaig mt tit? iratli nf GHfrw %r fatuuta 
 
 We trace the pow'r of Death from tomb to tomb, 
 And his are all the ages yet to come. 
 'Tis his to call the planets from on high. 
 To blacken Phoebus, and dissolve the sky; 
 His too, when all in his dark realms are hurl'd, 
 From its firm base to shake the solid world; 
 His fatal sceptre rules the spacious whole, 
 And trembling nature rocks from pole to pole. 
 
 Awful he moves, and wide his wings are spread : 
 Behold thy brother number d with the dead! 
 .From bondage freed, the exulting spirit flics 
 Beyond Olympus, and these starry skies. 
 
 36 
 
<g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <3> 
 
 Lost in our woe for thee, blest shade, we mourn 
 In vain ; to earth thou never must return. 
 Thy sisters, too, fair mourner, feel the dart 
 Of Death, and with fresh torture rend thine h(.art. 
 Weep not for them, who with thine happy mind 
 To rise with them, and leave the world behind. 
 
 As a young plant by hurricanes up torn, 
 So near its parent lies the newly born 
 But 'midst the bright ethereal train behold 
 It shines superior on a throne of gold : 
 Then, mourner, cease; let hope thy tears restrain, 
 Smile on the tomb, and sooth the raging pain. 
 On yon blest regions fix thy longing view. 
 Mindless of sublunary scenes below ; 
 Ascend the sacred mount, in thought arise, 
 And seek substantial and immortal joys; 
 Where hope receives, where faith to vision springs, 
 And raptur'd seraphs tune tlr immortal strings 
 To strains ecstatic. Thou the chorus join, 
 And to thy father tune the praise divine. 
 
 37 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 a Clllrrutimau on thr Qrath of Sis 
 
 When contemplation finds her sacred spring, 
 Where heav'nly music makes the arches ring. 
 Where virtue reigns unsulli'd and divine, 
 Where wisdom throned, and all the graces shine, 
 There sits thy spouse amidst the radiant throng, 
 While thy dear mate to flesh no more confin'd, 
 There choirs angelic shout her welcome round, 
 With perfect bliss and peerless glory crown'd. 
 While thy dear mate to flesh no more confin'd, 
 Exults a blest, an heav'n ascended mind, 
 Say in thy breast shall floods of sorrow rise? 
 Say shall its torrents overwhelm thine eyes? 
 Amid the seats of heav'n a place is free, 
 And angels open their bright ranks for thee; 
 For thee they wait and with expectant eye 
 Thy spouse leans downward from th' empyreal sky 
 "O come away," her longing spirit cries, 
 "And share with me the raptures of the skies. 
 "Our bliss divine to mortals is unknown; 
 "Immortal life and glory are our own. 
 "There, too, may the dear pledges of our love 
 "Arrive, and taste with us the joys above; 
 
 38 
 
} The Poems of Phillis Wheatley Q 
 
 "Attune the harp to more than mortal lays, 
 "And join with us the tribute of their praise 
 "To him, who dy'd stern justice to atone, 
 "And make eternal glory all our own. 
 "He in his death slew ours, and, as he rose, 
 "He crush'd the dire dominion of 'our foes ; 
 "Vain were their hopes to put the God to flight, 
 "Chain us to hell, and bar the gates of light." 
 
 She spoke and turn'd from mortal scenes her eyes, 
 Which beamed celestial radiance o'er the skies. 
 
 Then thou, dear man, no more with grief retire, 
 Let grief no longer damp devotion's fire, 
 But rise sublime, to equal bliss aspire, 
 Thy sighs no more be waf ted by the wind 
 No more complain, but be to heav'n resign'd, 
 'Twas thine t' unfold the oracles divine, 
 To soothe our woes the task was also thine ; 
 Now sorrow is incumbent on thy heart, 
 Permit the muse a cordial to impart; 
 Who can to thee their tend' rest aid refuse? 
 To dry thy tears how longs the heav'nly muse ! 
 
 39 
 
<} The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <g 
 An ifgmtt tn tty iK0rmng 
 
 Attend my lays, ye ever honoured nine, 
 Assist my labours, and my strains refine; 
 In smoothest numbers pour the notes along, 
 For bright Aurora now demands my song. 
 
 Aurora hail, and all the thousand dies, 
 Which deck thy progress through the vaulted skies ; 
 The morn awakes, and wide extends her rays, 
 On ev'ry leaf the gentle zephyr plays; 
 Harmonious lays the feather'd race resume, 
 Dart the bright eye, and shake the painted plume. 
 
 Ye shady groves, your verdant gloom display 
 To shield your poet from the burning day : 
 Calliope awake the sacred lyre, 
 While thy fair sisters fan the pleasing fire : 
 The bow'rs, the gales, the variegated skies 
 In all their pleasures in my bosom rise. 
 
 See in the east th' illustrious king of day! 
 His rising radiance drives the shades away 
 But oh ! I feel his fervid leaves too strong, 
 And scarce begun, concludes th' abortive song. 
 
 40 
 
} The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 An %mn 10 tit? funning 
 
 Soon as the sun forsook the eastern main 
 The pealing thunder shook the heav'nly plain ; 
 Majestic grandeur! From the zephyr's wing, 
 Exhales the incense of the blooming spring, 
 Soft purl the streams, the birds renew their notes, 
 And through the air their mingled music floats. 
 
 Through all the heav'ns what beauteous dies are 
 
 spread ! 
 
 But the west glories in the deepest red : 
 So may our breasts with every virtue glow, 
 The living temples of our God below ! 
 
 FilFd with the praise of him who gives the light, 
 And draws the sable curtains of the night, 
 Let placid slumbers soothe each weary mind, 
 At morn to wake more heav'nly, more refin'd ; 
 So shall the labors of the day begin 
 More pure, more guarded from the snares of sin. 
 
 Night's leaden sceptre seals my drowsy eyes. 
 Then cease, my song, till fair Aurora rise. 
 
 41 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <g> 
 
 bmt; 1-B 
 
 Say, heav'nly muse, what king, or mighty God, 
 That moves sublime from Idumea's road? 
 In Bozratis dies, with martial glories join'd, 
 His purple vesture waves upon the wind. 
 Why thus enrob'd delights he to appear 
 In the dread image of the Potv'r of war? 
 
 Compress'd in wrath the swelling wine-press 
 
 groaned, 
 It bled, and pour'd the gushing purple round. 
 
 "Mine was the act," th' Almighty Saviour said, 
 And shook the dazzling glories of his head, 
 "When all forsook I trod the press alone, 
 "And conquer'd by omnipotence of my own; 
 "For man's release sustained the pond'rous load,, 
 "For man the wrath of an immortal God : 
 "To execute th' Eternal's dread command 
 "My soul I sacrific'd with willing hand; 
 "Sinless I stood before the avenging frown, 
 "Atoning thus for vices not my own." 
 His eye the ample field of battle round 
 Survey 'd, but no created succours found ; 
 His own omnipotence sustained the fight, 
 His vengeance sunk the haughty foes in night; 
 
 42 
 
The Poems of PhUlis Wheatley 
 
 Beneath his feet the prostrate troops were spread, 
 And round him lay the dying, and the dead. 
 
 Great God, what lightn'ing flashes from thine 
 
 eyes? 
 What pow'r withstands if thou indignant rise? 
 
 Against thy Zion though her foes may rage, 
 And all their cunning, all their strength engage,. 
 Yet she serenely on thy bosom lies, 
 Smiles at their arts, and all their force defies. 
 
 Mneme begin. Inspire, ye sacred nine, 
 Your vent'rous Afric in her great design. 
 Mneme, immortal pow'r, I trace thy spring : 
 Assist my strains, while I thy glories sing: 
 The acts of long departed years, by thee 
 Recover'd, in due order rang'd we see : 
 Thy pow'r the long- forgotten calls from night, 
 That sweetly plays before the fancy's sight. 
 
 Mneme in our nocturnal vision pours 
 The ample treasure of her secret stores; 
 Swift from above she wings her silent flight 
 Through Phoebe's realms, fair regent of the night; 
 
 43 
 
og> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <gj 
 
 And, in her pomp of images display'd, 
 
 To the high-raptur'd poet gives her aid, 
 
 Through the unbounded regions of the mind, 
 
 Diffusing light celestial and refin'd. 
 
 The heav'nly phantom paints the actions done 
 
 By ev'ry tribe beneath the rolling sun. 
 
 Mneme, enthroned within the human breast, 
 Has vice condemn' d and ev'ry virtue blest. 
 How sweet the sound when we her plaudit hear? 
 Sweeter than music to the ravish'd ear, 
 Sweeter than Maro's entertaining strains 
 Resounding through the groves, and hills, and 
 
 plains. 
 
 But how is Mneme dreaded by the race, 
 Who scorn her warnings and despise her grace? 
 By her unveil' d each horrid crime appears, 
 Her awful hand a cup of wormwood bears. 
 Days, years misspent, O what a hell of woe! 
 Hers the worst tortures that our souls can know. 
 
 Now eighteen years their destin'd course have run 
 In fast succession round the central sun. 
 How did the follies of that period pass 
 Unnotic'd, but behold them writ in brass! 
 In Recollection see them fresh return, 
 And sure 'tis mine to be asham'd, and mourn. 
 
 44 
 
& The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <& 
 
 O Virtue, smiling in immortal green, 
 Do thou exert thy pow'r, and change the scene; 
 Be thine employ to guide my future days, 
 And mine to pay the tribute of my praise. 
 
 Of Recollection such the pow'r enthron'd 
 In ev'ry breast, and thus her pow'r is own'd. 
 The wretch, who dar'd the vengeance of the skies. 
 At last awakes in horror and surprise, 
 By her alarm'd, he sees impending fate, 
 He howls in anguish and repents too late. 
 But O ! what peace, what joys are her's t' impart 
 To ev'ry holy, ev'ry upright heart! 
 Thrice blest the man, who in her sacred shrine, 
 Feels himself sheltered from the wrath divine! 
 
 n Jmagmatunt 
 
 Thy various works, imperial queen, we see, 
 
 How bright their forms ! how deck'd with pomp 
 
 by thee! 
 
 Thy wond'rous acts in beauteous order stand, 
 And all attest how potent is thine hand. 
 
 From Helicon's refulgent heights attend 
 Ye sacred choir, and my attempts befriend : 
 
 45 
 
g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <g> 
 
 To tell her glories with a faithful tongue, 
 Ye blooming graces, triumph in my song. 
 
 Now here, now there, the roving Fancy flies, 
 Till some lov'd object strikes her wand'ring eyes. 
 Whose silken fetters all the senses bind, 
 And soft captivity involves the mind. 
 
 Imagination! who can sing thy force? 
 Or who describe the swiftness of thy course? 
 Soaring through air to find, the bright abode, 
 Th' empyreal palace of the thundering God, 
 We on thy pinions can surpass the wind, 
 And leave the rolling universe behind : 
 From star to star the mental optics rove, 
 Measure the skies, and range the realms above. 
 There in one view we grasp the mighty whole, 
 Or with new worlds amaze th' unbounded soul. 
 
 Though Winter frowns to Fancy's raptur'd eyes 
 The fields may flourish, and gay scenes arise; 
 The frozen deeps may break their iron bands, 
 And bid their waters murmur o'er the sands. 
 Fair Flora may resume her fragrant reign, 
 And with her flow'ry riches deck the plain; 
 Sylvanus may diffuse his honors round, 
 And all the forest may with leaves be crown'd ; 
 
 46 
 
> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <S> 
 
 Show'rs may descend, and dews their gems dis 
 close, 
 And nectar sparkle on the blooming rose. 
 
 Such is thy pow'r, nor are thine orders vain, 
 O thou the leader of the mental train: 
 In full perfection all thy works are wrought, 
 And thine the sceptre o'er the realms of thought 
 Before thy throne the subject-passions bow, 
 Of subject-passions sovereign ruler thou; 
 At thy command joy rushes on the heart, 
 And through the glowing veins the spirits dart. 
 
 Fancy might now her silken pinions try 
 To rise from earth, and sweep th' expanse on high ; 
 From Tithoris bed now might Aurora rise, 
 Her cheeks all glowing with celestial dies, 
 While a pure stream of light o'erflows the skies. 
 The monarch of the day I might behold, 
 And all the mountains tipt with radiant gold, 
 But I reluctant leave the pleasing views, 
 Which Fancy dresses to delight the Muse; 
 Winter austere forbids me to aspire, 
 And northern tempests damp the rising fire; 
 They chill the tides of Fancy's flowing sea, 
 Cease then, my song, cease the unequal lay. 
 
 47 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 ilj? Ifcatlt uf QL ., An 
 JHontfys 
 
 Through airy roads he wings his infant flight 
 To purer regions of celestial light; 
 Enlarg'd he sees unnumber'd systems roll, 
 Beneath him sees the universal whole, 
 Planets on planets run their destin'd round, 
 And circling wonders fill the vast profound. 
 Th' ethereal now, and now th' empyreal skies 
 With growing splendors strike his wond'ring eyes : 
 The angels view him with delight unknown, 
 Press his soft hand, and seat him on his throne; 
 Then smiling thus: 'To this divine abode, 
 "The seat of saints, of seraphs, and of God, 
 'Thrice welcome thou." The rapturd babe replies, 
 'Thanks to my God, who snatch' d me to the skies* 
 "E'er vice triumphant had possessed my heart, 
 "E'er yet the tempter had beguiFd my heart, 
 "E'er yet on sin's base actions I was bent, 
 "E'er yet I knew temptations dire intent ; 
 "E'er yet the lash for horrid crimes I felt, 
 "E'er vanity had led my way to guilt, 
 "But, soon arriv'd at my celestial goal 
 "Full glories rush on my expanding soul." 
 
 48 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 Joyful he spoke: Exulting cherubs round 
 
 Clapt their glad wings, the heav'nly vaults resound^ 
 
 Say, parents, why this unavailing moan? 
 Why heave your pensive bosoms with the groan? 
 To Charles, the happy subject of my song, 
 A brighter world, and nobler strains belong. 
 Say would you tear him from the realms above p 
 By thoughtless wishes, and prepost'rous love?. 
 Doth his felicity increase your pain? 
 Or could you welcome to this world again 
 This heir of bliss? with a superior air 
 Methinks he answers with a smile severe,, 
 "Thrones and dominions cannot tempt rne there/" 
 
 But still you cry, "Can we the sigh forbear, 
 "And still and still must we not pour the tear? 
 "Our only hope, more dear than vital breath, 
 "Twelve moons revolv'd, becomes they prey of 
 
 death ; 
 
 "Delightful infant, nightly visions give 
 "Thee to our arms, and we with joy receive, 
 "We fain would clasp the Phantom to our breast r 
 "The Phantom flies and leaves the soul unblest."' 
 
 To yon bright regions let your faith ascend,. 
 Prepare to join your dearest infant friend 
 In pleasures without measure, without end.- 
 
 49 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 (Bo (ttaptaitt if - ft, 0f tip H51t| 
 
 Say, muse divine, can hostile scenes delight 
 The warrior's bosom in the fields of fight? 
 Lo! here the Christian and the hero join 
 With mutual grace to form the man divine. 
 In H - d, see with pleasure and surprise, 
 Where valour kindles, and where virtue lies : 
 Go, hero brave, still grace the post of fame, 
 And add new glories to thine honour'd name, 
 Still to the field, and still to virtue true : 
 Britannia glories in no son like you. 
 
 30 tip Stgtjt 2f0ttorablr William, Earl of lart- 
 m0trtlj, Ijis JJlajtfHtg'fi >?rr?targ 0f State 
 for Jf 0rtl| Ammra, 
 
 Hail, happy day, when, smiling like the morn, 
 Fair Freedom rose New-England to acforn: 
 The northern clime beneath her genial ray, 
 Dartmouth, congratulates thy blissful sway : 
 Elate with hope her race no longer mourns, 
 Each soul expands, each grateful bosom burns, 
 While in thine hand with pleasure we behold 
 The silken reins, and Freedom's charms unfold. 
 
 50 
 
> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <g> 
 
 Long lost to realms beneath the northern skies 
 She shines supreme, while hated faction dies: 
 Soon as appear'd the Goddess long desir'd, 
 Sick at the view, she languish'd and expir'd; 
 Thus from the splendors of the morning light 
 The owl in sadness seeks the caves of night. 
 
 No more America in mournful strain 
 Of wrongs, and grievance unredress'd complain, 
 No longer shalt thou dread the iron chain, 
 Which wanton Tyranny with lawless hand 
 Had made, and which it meant t' enslave the land. 
 
 Should you, my lord, while you pursue my song, 
 Wonder from whence my love of Freedom sprung, 
 Whence flow these wishes for the common good, 
 By feeling hearts alone best understood, 
 I, young in life, by seeming cruel fate 
 Was snatclfd from Afric's fancy'd happy seat : 
 What pangs excruciating must molest, 
 What sorrows labour in my parent's breast? 
 Steel'd was the soul and by no misery mov'd 
 That from a father seiz'd his babe belov'd 
 Such, such my case. And can I then but pray 
 Others may never feel tyrannic sway? 
 
 For favours past, great Sir, our thanks are due, 
 And thee we ask thy favours io renew, 
 
 51 
 
<g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <gj> 
 
 Since in thy pow'r, as in thy will before, 
 To sooth the griefs, which thou dicFst once deplore. 
 May heav'nly grace the sacred sanction give 
 To all thy works, and thou for ever live 
 Not only on the wings of fleeting Fame, 
 Though praise immortal crowns the patriot's name, 
 But to conduct to heav'n's refulgent fane, 
 May fiery courses sweep th' ethereal plain, 
 And bear thee upwards to that blest abode, 
 Where, like the prophet, thou shalt find thy God. 
 
 00 S 
 
 ta 
 
 I. 
 
 While raging tempests shake the shore, 
 While Ae'lus' thunders round us roar, 
 And sweep impetuous o'er the plain 
 Be still, O tyrant of the main ; 
 Nor let thy brow contracted frowns betray, 
 While my Susannah skims the wat'ry way.. 
 
 II. 
 
 The Pow'r propitious hears the lay, 
 The Mue-ey'd daughters of the sea 
 
 52 
 
<g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <g 
 
 With sweeter cadence glide along. 
 And Tliames responsive joins their song. 
 Pleas'd with their notes Sol sheds benign his ray, 
 And double radiance decks the face of day. 
 
 III. 
 To Court thee to Britannia's arms 
 
 Serene the climes and mild the sky, 
 Her region boasts unnumber'd charms, 
 
 Thy welcome smiles in ev'ry eye. 
 Thy promise, Neptune keep, record my pray'r, 
 Nor give my wishes to the empty air. 
 
 Boston, October 10, 1772. 
 
 aiy utt if?r QJnmtng ta Jfartlj Ammra 
 With flier >0n, fnr 
 of it rr 
 
 Indulgent muse! my grov'ling mind inspire, 
 And fill my bosom with celestial fire. 
 
 See from Jamaica's fervid shore she moves, 
 Like the fair mother of the blooming loves, 
 When from above the Goddess with her hand 
 Fans the soft breeze, and lights upon the land; 
 Thus she on Neptune's wat'ry realm reclin'd 
 Appeared, and thus invites the ling'ring wind. 
 
 53 
 
g The Poems of Phillis Wheatley { 
 
 "Arise, ye winds, America explore, 
 "Waft me, ye gales, from this malignant shore; 
 "The Northern milder climes I long to greet, 
 "There hope that health will my arrival meet." 
 Soon as she spoke in my ideal view 
 The winds assented, and the vessel flew. 
 
 Madam, yonr spouse bereft of wife and son, 
 In the grove's dark recesses pours his moan; 
 Each branch, wide-spreading to the ambient sky, 
 Forgets its verdue, and submits to die. 
 
 From thence I turn, and leave the sultry plain, 
 And swift pursue thy passage o'er the main: 
 The ship arrives before the fav'ring wind, 
 And makes the Philadelphian port assign'd, 
 Thence I attend you to Bostonia's arms, 
 Where gen'rous friendship ev'ry bosom warms: 
 Thrice welcome here! may health revive again. 
 Bloom on thy cheek, and bound in ev'ry vein! 
 Then back return to gladden ev'ry heart, 
 And give your spouse his soul's far dearer part, 
 Receiv'd again with what a sweet surprise, 
 The tear in transport starting from his eyes! 
 While his attendant son with blooming grace 
 Springs to his father's ever dear embrace. 
 With shouts of joy Jamaica's rocks resound, 
 With shouts of joy the country rings around. 
 
 54 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 Ola a EaiHj 0n 2f?r jRmarhahle !prmniatt0tt w 
 a Jjurrtrattr in 5?0rttj-(Ear0lttta 
 
 Though thou did'st hear the tempest from afar r 
 And felt'st the horrors of the wat'ry war, 
 To me unknown, yet on this peaceful shore 
 Methinks I hear the storm tumultuous roar, 
 And how stern Boreas with impetuous hand 
 Compell'd the Nereids to usurp the land. 
 Reluctant rose the daughters of the main, 
 And slow ascending glided o'er the plain, 
 Till Aeolus in his rapid chariot drove 
 In gloomy grandeur from the vault above : 
 Furious he comes. His winged sons obey 
 Their frantic sire, and madden all the sea. 
 The billows rave, the wind's fierce tyrant roars, 
 And with his thund'ring terrors shakes the shores: 
 Broken by waves the vessel's frame is rent, 
 And strows with planks the wat'ry element. 
 
 But thee, Maria, a kind Nereid's shield 
 Preserv'd from sinking, and thy form upheld: 
 And sure some heav'nly oracle design'd 
 At that dread crisis to instruct thy mind 
 Things of eternal consequence to weigh, 
 And to thine heart just feelings to convey 
 
 55 
 
<B> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley A 
 
 Of things above, and of the future doom, 
 
 And what the births of the dread world to come. 
 
 From tossine seas I welcome thee to land. 
 '"Resign her, Nereid/' 'twas thy God's command. 
 Thy spouse late buried, as thy fears conceiv'd, 
 Again returns, thy fears are all reliev'd: 
 Thy daughter blooming with superior grace 
 Again thou see'st, again thine arms embrace; 
 O come, and joyful show thy spouse his heir, 
 And what the blessings of maternal care! 
 
 a iCafog attb 2j?r GUfiUtmt, on tlj? ieatlj of 
 ij^r g>0tt attfc SJjrir 1Bro%r 
 
 Overwhelming sorrow now demands my song: 
 From death the overwhelming sorrow sprung. 
 What flowing tears? What hearts with grief op- 
 
 pres't? 
 
 What sighs on sighs heave the fond parent's breast? 
 The brother weeps, the hapless sisters join 
 Th' increasing woe, and swell the crystal brine; 
 The poor, who once his gen'rous bounty fed, 
 Droop, and bewail their benefactor dead. 
 In death the friend, the kind companion lies, 
 And in one death what various comfort dies! 
 
 56 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 Th' unhappy mother sees the sanguine rill 
 Forget to flow, and nature's wheels stand still, 
 But see from earth his spirit far remov'd. 
 And know no grief recals your best-belov'd : 
 He, upon pinions swifter than the wind, 
 Has left mortality's sad scenes behind 
 For joys to this terrestrial state unknown, 
 And glories richer than the monarch's crown. 
 Of virtue's steady course the prize behold! 
 What blissful wonders to his mind unfold! 
 But of celestial joys I sing in vain : 
 Attempt not, muse, the too advent' rous strain. 
 
 No more in briny show'rs, ye friends around, 
 Or bathe his clay, or waste them on the ground : 
 Still do you weep, still wish for his return? 
 How cruel thus to wish, and thus to mourn? 
 No more for him the streams of sorrow pour, 
 But haste to join him on the heav'nly shore, 
 On harps of gold to tune immortal lays, 
 And to your God immortal anthems raise. 
 
 57 
 
<g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 30 a (Smtleman anb Slaig mt % irailj uf 
 Hr0th*r ani Sister, anfc a (EljUi fl 
 5famr 0f Aims, Agrfc n? fear 
 
 On Death's domain intent I fix my eyes, 
 Where human nature in vast ruin lies: 
 With pensive mind I search the drear abode, 
 Where the great conqu'ror has his spoils bestow'd; 
 There there the offspring of six thousand years 
 In endless numbers to my view appears : 
 Whole kingdoms in his gloomy den are thrust, 
 And nations mix with their primeval dust : 
 Insatiate still he gluts the ample tomb; 
 His is the present, his the age to come. 
 See here a brother, here a sister spread, 
 And a sweet daughter mingled with the dead. 
 
 But, Madam, let your grief be laid aside, 
 And let the fountain of your tears be dry'd, 
 In vain they flow to wet the dusty plain, 
 Your sighs are wafted to the skies in vain, 
 Your pains they witness, but they can no more, 
 While Death reigns tyrant o'er this mortal shore. 
 
 The glowing stars and silver queen of light 
 At last must perish in the gloom of night : 
 
 58 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 Resign thy friends to that Almighty hand, 
 Which gave them life, and bow to his command; 
 Thine Avis give without a murm'ring heart, 
 Though half thy soul be fated to depart. 
 To shining guards consign thine infant care 
 To waft triumphant through the seats of air: 
 Her soul enlarg'd to heav'nly pleasure springs,. 
 She feeds on truth and uncreated things. 
 Methinks I hear her in the realms above, 
 And leaning forward with a filial love, 
 Invite you there to share immortal bliss 
 Unknown, untasted in a state like this. 
 With tow'ring hopes, and growing grace arise. 
 And seek beatitude beyond the skies. 
 
 Ifcatlj uf Sr. ^amitrl Marshall, 
 
 Through thickest glooms look back, immortal 
 
 shade, 
 
 On that confusion which thy death has made ; 
 Or from Olympus' height look down, and see 
 A Town involv'd in grief bereft of thee. 
 Thy Lucy sees thee mingle with the dead, 
 And rends the graceful tresses from her head, 
 
 59 
 
og> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <g> 
 
 Wild in her woe, with grief unknown opprest 
 Sigh follows sigh deep heaving from her breast. 
 
 Too quickly fled, ah! whither art thou gone? 
 .Ah! lost for ever to thy wife and son! 
 The hapless child, thine only hope and heir, 
 dings round his mother's neck and weeps his sor 
 rows there. 
 
 The loss of thee on Tyler's soul returns, 
 And Boston for her dear physician mourns. 
 
 When sickness call'd for Marshall's healing hand. 
 With what compassion did his soul expand? 
 In him we found the father and the friend : 
 In life how lov'd! how honour* d in his end! 
 
 And must not then our Aesculapius stay 
 To bring his lingering infant into day? 
 The babe unborn in the dark womb is tost, 
 And seems in anguish for its father lost. 
 
 Gone is Apollo from his house of earth, 
 But leaves the sweet memorials of his worth : 
 The common parent, whom we all deplore, 
 From yonder world unseen must come no more, 
 Yet 'midst our woes immortal hopes attend 
 The spouse, the sire, the universal friend. 
 
 60 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 o n (SrnJlmatt mt Sjte U0gag? 10 (Srcat Srtttatt 
 for ih? 2J?r0ttrnj of Ijtfi ijralitj 
 
 While others chant of gay Elysian scenes, 
 
 Of balmy zepyhrs, and of flow'ry plains, 
 
 My song more happy speaks a greater name, 
 
 Feels higher motives and a nobler flame. 
 
 For thee, O R - , the muse attunes her strings,. 
 
 And mounts sublime above inferior things. 
 
 I sing not now of green em-bow' ring woods, 
 I sing not now the daughters of the floods, 
 I sing not of the storms o'er ocean driv'n, 
 And how they howl'd along the waste of heav'n,. 
 But I to R - would paint the British shore, 
 And vast Atlantic, not untry'd before: 
 Thy life impair'd commands thee to arise, 
 Leave these bleak regions and inclement skies, 
 Where chilling winds return the winter past, 
 And nature shudders at the furious blast. 
 
 O thou stupendous, earth-enclosing main 
 Exert thy wonders to the world again ! 
 If ere thy pow'r prolonged the fleeting breath, 
 Turn'd back the shafts, and mock'd the gates of" 
 death, 
 
 61 
 
> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <S> 
 
 If ere thine air dispens'd an healing pow'r, 
 
 Or snatch'd the victim from the fatal hour, 
 
 This equal case demands thine equal care, 
 
 And equal wonders may this patient share. 
 
 But unavailing-, frantic is the dream 
 
 To hope thine aid without the aid of him 
 
 Who gave thee birth and taught thee where to flow, 
 
 And in thy waves his various blessings show. 
 
 May R return to view his native shore 
 
 Replete with vigour not his own before, 
 Then shall we see with pleasure and surprise, 
 And own thy work, great Ruler of the skies ! 
 
 ti} Stftu Sr. utymuog Amorg, nn 
 
 ifta ^frowns 0n Satlg itetmittftt, in 
 
 Ijat Suttj ia ifonmuuftttoii anh 
 
 To cultivate in ev'ry noble mind 
 
 Habitual grace, and sentiments refin'd, 
 
 Thus while you strive to mend the human heart, 
 
 Thus while the heav'nly precepts you impart, 
 
 O may each bosom catch the sacred fire, 
 
 And youthful minds to Virtue's throne aspire! 
 
 When God's eternal ways you set in sight 
 And Virtue shines in all her native light, 
 
 62 
 
} The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <G> 
 
 In vain would Vice her works in night conceal, 
 For Wisdom's eye pervades the sable veil. 
 
 Artists may paint the sun's effulgent rays, 
 But Amory' s pen the brighter God displays : 
 While his great works in Amory's pages shine, 
 And while he proves his essence all divine, 
 The Athiest sure no more can boast aloud 
 Of chance, or nature, and exclude the God; 
 As if the clay without the potter's aid 
 Should rise in various forms, and shapes self-made, 
 Or worlds above with orb o'er orb profound 
 Self-mov'd could run the everlasting round. 
 It cannot be unerring Wisdom guides 
 With eye propitious, and o'er-all presides. 
 
 Still prosper, Amory! still may'st thou receive 
 The warmest blessings that a muse can give, 
 And when this transitory fate is o'er, 
 When kingdoms fall, and fleeting Fame's no more, 
 May Amory triumph in immortal fame, 
 A nobler title, and superior name! 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 n % iratlj of 3. <!L, An 3nfant 
 
 No more the flow'ry scenes of pleasure rise, 
 Nor charming prospects greet the mental eyes, 
 No more with joy we view that lovely face 
 Smiling, disportive, flush'd with ev'ry grace. 
 
 The tear of sorrow flows from ev'ry eye, 
 Qroans answer groans, and sighs to sighs reply; 
 What sudden pangs shot thro' each aching heart, 
 When, Death, thy messenger dispatch'd his dart? 
 Thy dread attendants, all-destroying Poiv'r, 
 Hurried the infant to his mortal hour. 
 Could'st thou unpitying close those radiant eyes? 
 Or fail'd his artless beauties to surprise? 
 Could not his innocence thy stroke controul 
 Thy purpose shake, and soften all thy soul? 
 
 The blooming babe, with shades of Death o'er- 
 
 spread 
 
 No more shall smile, no more shall raise its head, 
 But, like a branch, that from the tree is torn, 
 Falls prostrate, wither'd, languid, and forlorn. 
 
 "Where flies my James?" 'Tis thus I seem to- 
 
 hear 
 
 The parent ask, "Some angel tell me where 
 "He wings his passage thro' the yielding air?" 
 
 64 
 
<g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley < 
 
 Methinks a cherub bending from the skies 
 Observes the question, and serene replies, 
 "In heav'n's high places your babe appears : 
 "Prepare to meet him, and dismiss your tears." 
 Shall not th' intelligence your grief restrain, 
 And turn the mournful to the cheerful strain ? 
 Cease your complaints, suspend each rising sigh r 
 Cease to accuse the Ruler of the sky. 
 Parents, no more indulge the falling tear : 
 Let Faith to heav'n's refulgent domes repair,. 
 There see your infant, like a seraph glow : 
 What charms celestial in his numbers flow 
 Melodious, while the soul-enchanting strain 
 Dwells on his tongue, and fills th' ethereal plain? 
 Enough for ever cease your murm'ring breathy 
 Not as a foe, but friend converse with Death, 
 Since to the port of happiness unknown 
 He brought that treasure which you call your own. 
 The gift of heav'n intrusted to your hand 
 Cheerful resign at the divine command: 
 Not at your bar must sov'reign Wisdom stand. 
 
 65 
 
The ^Poenis of Phillis Wheatley 
 An %mn ta ijumatutg 
 
 Sto 3. . O 
 
 I. 
 
 JLo! for this dark terrestrial ball 
 .Forsakes his azure-paved hall 
 
 A prince of heav'nly birth! 
 Divine Humanity behold, 
 What wonders rise, what charms unfold 
 
 At his descent to earth! 
 
 II. 
 
 The bosoms of the great and good 
 With wonder and delight he view'd, 
 
 And fix'd his empire there: 
 Him, close compressing to his breast, 
 The sire of gods and men address'd, 
 
 "My son, my heav'nly fair! 
 
 III. 
 
 "Descend to earth, there place thy throne ; 
 "To succor man's afflicted son 
 
 "Each human heart inspire : 
 "To act in bounties unconfin'd 
 '"Enlarge the close contracted mind, 
 
 "And SI it with thy fire." 
 
 66 
 
<g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 IV. 
 
 Quick as the word, with swift career 
 He wings his course from star to star, 
 
 And leaves the bright abode. 
 The Virtue did his charms impart; 
 Their G ! then thy raptur'd heart 
 
 Perceived the rushing God : 
 
 V. 
 
 For when thy pitying eye did see 
 The languid muse in low degree, 
 
 Then, then at thy desire 
 Descended the celestial nine; 
 O'er me methought they deign'd to shine, 
 
 And deign'd to string my lyre. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Can Afric's muse forgetful prove? 
 Or can such friendship fail to move 
 
 A tender human heart? 
 Immortal Friendship laurel-crown'd 
 The smiling Graces all surround 
 
 With ev'ry heav'nly Art. 
 
 67 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 210 ilje !j0tt0rahU v 3L 2?., Sai]., 0u tlte Urath 
 Hits 
 
 While deep you mourn beneath the cypress-shade 
 The hand of Death, and your dear daughter laid 
 In dust, whose absence gives your tears to flow, 
 And racks your bosom with incessant woe, 
 Let Recollection take a tender part, 
 Assuage the raging tortures of your heart, 
 Still the wild tempest of tumultuous grief, 
 And pour the heav'nly nectar of relief : 
 Suspend the sigh, dear Sir, and check the groan, 
 Divinely bright your daughter's Virtues shone : 
 How free from scornful pride her gentle mind, 
 Which ne'er its aid to indigence declined ! 
 Expanding free, it sought the means to prove 
 Unfailing charity, unbounded love! 
 
 She un reluctant flies to see no more 
 Her dear-lov'd parents on earth's dusky shore : 
 Impatient heav'irs resplendent goal to gain, 
 She with swift progress cuts the azure plain, 
 Where grief subsides, where changes are no more, 
 And life's tumultuous billows cease to roar; 
 She leaves her earthly mansion for the skies r 
 WTiere new creations feast her wond'ring eyes. 
 
 68 
 
} The Poems of Phillis Wheatley < 
 
 To heav'n's high mandate cheerfully resign'd 
 She mounts, and leaves the rolling globe behind; 
 She, who late wish'd Leonard might return, 
 Has ceas'd to languish, and forgot to mourn; 
 To the same high empyreal mansions come, 
 She joins her spouse, and smiles upon the tomb : 
 And thus I hear her from the realms above : 
 "Lo ! this the kinsfdom of celestial love ! 
 "Could ye, fond parents, see our present bliss, 
 "How soon would you each sigh, each fear dismiss? 
 "Amidst unutter d pleasures whilst I play 
 "In the fair sunshine of celestial day, 
 "As far as grief affects an happy soul 
 "So far doth grief my better mind controul, 
 "To see on earth my aged parents mourn, 
 
 "And secret wish for T 1 to return: 
 
 "Let brighter scenes your evening hours employ : 
 "Converse with heav'n, and taste the promis'd 
 joy." 
 
 69 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 in Siatrwa for lj?r (Etjiibmt >lain hg 
 Apollo, 3ffr0m ODrmi'0 iBrtamurphnsrs. 
 
 in, anh 3Fr0m a Him of 
 Painting 0f 4Hr. Sirljar h 
 
 Apollo's wrath to man the dreadful spring 
 Of ills innum'rous, tuneful goddess, sing! 
 Thou who did'st first th' ideal pencil give, 
 And taught'st the painter in his works to live. 
 Inspire with glowing energy of thought, 
 What Wilson painted, and what Ovid wrote. 
 Muse! lend thy aid, nor let me sue in vain, 
 Tho' last and meanest of the rhyming train! 
 O guide my pen in lofty strains to show 
 The Phrygian queen, all beautiful in woe. 
 
 'Twas where Maeonia spreads her wide domain 
 Niobe dwelt, and held her potent reign : 
 See in her hand the regal sceptre shine, 
 The wealthy heir of Tantalus divine, 
 He most distinguished by Dodonean Jove, 
 To approach the tables of the gods above : 
 Her grandsire Atlas, who with mighty pains 
 Th' etherial axis on his neck sustains : 
 Her other grandsire on the throne on high 
 Rolls the loud pealing thunder thro' the sky. 
 
 70 
 
> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <g 
 
 Her spouse, Amphion, who from Jove, too,, 
 
 springs, 
 Divinely taught to sweep the sounding strings. 
 
 Seven sprightly sons the royal bed adorn, 
 Seven daughters beauteous as the op'ning morn, 
 As when Aurora fills the ravish' d sight, 
 And decks the orient realms with rosy light 
 From their bright eyes the living splendors play, 
 Nor can beholders bear the flashing ray. 
 
 Wherever, Niobe, thou turn'st thine eyes, 
 New beauties kindle, and new joys arise ! 
 But thou had'st far the happier mother prov'd, 
 If this fair offspring had been less belov'd: 
 What if their charms exceed Aurora's teint. 
 No w r ords could tell them, and no pencil paint. 
 Thy love too vehement hastens to destroy 
 Each blooming maid, and each celestial boy. 
 
 Now Manto comes, endu'd with migjity skill, 
 The past to explore, the future to reveal. 
 Thro' Thebes' wide streets Tiresia's daughter earner 
 Divine Latona's mandate to proclaim : 
 The Theban maids to hear the order ran,- 
 When thus Mseonia's prophetess began: 
 
 "Go, Thebans! great Latona's will obey, 
 "And pious tribute at her altars pay : 
 
 71 
 
<S5> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley < 
 
 "With rights divine, the goddess be implor'd, 
 "Nor be her sacred offspring unador'd." 
 Thus Manto spoke. The Thebcm maids obey, 
 And pious tribute to the goddess pay. 
 The rich perfumes ascend in waving spires, 
 And altars blaze with consecrated fires; 
 The fair assembly moves with graceful air, 
 And leaves of laurel bind the flowing hair. 
 
 Niobe comes with all her royal race, 
 With charms unnumber'd, and superior grace : 
 Her Phrygian garments of delightful hue, 
 Inwove with gold, refulgent to the view, 
 Beyond description beautiful she moves 
 Like heav'nly Venus, 'rnidt her smiles and loves: 
 She views around the supplicating train, 
 And shakes her graceful head with stern disdain. 
 Proudly she turns around her lofty eyes, 
 And thus reviles celestial deities : 
 "What madness drives the Theban ladies fair 
 "To give their incense to surrounding air? 
 "Say why this new sprung deity preferr'd? 
 "Why vainly fancy your petitions heard? 
 "Or say why Coeris offspring is obey'd, 
 "While to my goddessship no tribut's paid? 
 "For me no altars blaze with living fires, 
 
 72 
 
<g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <g> 
 
 "No bullock bleeds, no frankincense transpires, 
 "Thro' Cadmus' palace, not unknown to fame, 
 "And Phrygian nations all revere my name. 
 4 'Where'er I turn my eyes vast wealth I find, 
 "Lo! here an empress with a goddess join'd. 
 "What, shall a Titaness be deify'd, 
 "To whom the spacious earth a couch deny'd! 
 "Nor heav'n, nor earth, nor sea receiv'd your queen, 
 "Till pitying Delos took the wand'rer in. 
 "Round me what a large progeny is spread! 
 "No frowns of fortune has my soul to dread. 
 "What if indignant she decrease my train 
 "More than Latonas number will remain; 
 ""Then hence, ye Theban dames, hence haste away, 
 "Nor longer off'rings to Latona pay? 
 "Regard the orders of Amphion's spouse, 
 "And take the leaves of laurels from your brows." 
 Niobe spoke. The Theban maids obey'd, 
 Their brows unbound, and left the rights unpaid. 
 The angry goddess heard, then silence broke 
 On Cynthus summit, and indignant spoke : 
 "Phoebus! behold, thy mother in disgrace, 
 "Who to no goddess yields the prior place 
 "Except to Juno's self, who reigns above, 
 "The spouse and sister of the thund'ring Jove. 
 
 73 
 
og> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <f> 
 
 "Niobe, sprung from Tantalus, inspires 
 "Each Theban bosom with rebellious fires; 
 "No reason her imperious temper quells, 
 "But all her father in her tongue rebels; 
 "Wrap her own sons for her blaspheming breath, 
 "Apollo! wrap them in the shades of death." 
 Latona ceas'd, and ardent thus replies 
 The God, whose glory decks th' expanded skies. 
 
 "Cease thy complaints, mine be the task assign'd 
 "To punish pride, and scourge the rebel mind." 
 This Phoebe join'd. They wing their instant flight; 
 Thebes trembled as th' immortal pow'rs alight. 
 
 With clouds incompas'd glorious Phoebus stands ; 
 The feather'd vengeance quiv'ring in his hands. 
 
 Near Cadmus walls a plain extended lay, 
 Where Thebes' young princes pass'd in sport the 
 
 day: 
 
 There the bold coursers bounded o'er the plains,. 
 While the great masters held the golden reins.. 
 Ismenus first the racing pastime led, 
 And rul'd the fury of his flying steed. 
 "Ah, me," he sudden cries, with shrieking breath, 
 While in his breast he feels the shaft of death; 
 He drops the bridle on his courser's mane, 
 Before his eyes in shadows swims the plain, 
 
 74 
 
<}> The Poems of PhUlis Wheatley Q 
 
 He, the first-born of great Amphion's bed, 
 Was struck the first, first mingled with the dead. 
 
 Then did'st thou, Sipylus, the language hear 
 Of fate portentous whistling in the air : 
 As when th' impending storm the sailor sees 
 He spreads his canvas to the fav'ring breeze, 
 So to thine horse thou gav'st the golden reins, 
 Gav'st him to rush impetuous o'er the plains : 
 But, ah! a fatal shaft from Phoebus' hand 
 Smites thro' thy neck, and sinks thee on the sand. 
 
 Two other brothers were at wrestling found, 
 And in their pastime claspt each other round : 
 A shaft that instant from Apollo's hand 
 Transfixt them both, and stretch' d them on the 
 
 sand: 
 
 Together they their cruel fate bemoan'd, 
 Together languish'd, and together groan'd : 
 Together too th' unbodied spirits fled, 
 And sought the gloomy mansions of the dead. 
 
 Alphenor saw, and trembling at the view, 
 Beat his torn breast, that chang'd its snowy hue. 
 He flies to raise them in a kind embrace ; 
 A brother's fondness triumphs in his face: 
 Alphenor fails in this fraternal deed, 
 A dart dispatch'd him (so the fates decreed:) 
 
 75 
 
} The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <^ 
 
 Soon as the arrow left the deadly wound, 
 His issuing entrails smoak'd upon the ground. 
 
 What woes on blooming Damasichcn wait! 
 His sighs portend his near impending fate. 
 Just where the well-made leg begins to be, 
 And the soft sinews form the supple knee, 
 The youth sore w r ounded by the Delian god 
 Attempts t' extract the crime-avenging rod, 
 But, whilst he strives the will of fate t' avert, 
 Divine Apollo sends a second dart; 
 Swift thro' his throat the feather 'd mischief flies, 
 Bereft of sense, he drops his head, and dies. 
 
 Young Illioneus, the last directs his pray'r, 
 And cries, "My life, ye gods celestial! spare." 
 Apollo heard, and pity touched his heart, 
 But ah ! too late, for he had sent the dart : 
 Thou, too, O Illioneus, art doom' d to fall, 
 The fates refuse that arrow to recal. 
 
 On the swift wings of ever-flying Fame 
 To Cadmus palace soon the tidings came: 
 Niobe heard, and with indignant eyes 
 She thus express'd her anger and surprise: 
 "Why is such privilege to them allow'd? 
 "Why thus insulted by the Delian god? 
 
 76 
 
<g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <g* 
 
 "Dwells there such mischief in the pow'rs above? 
 
 "Why sweeps the vengeance of immortal Jove?" 
 
 For now Amphion too, with 'grief oppress'd 
 
 Had plung'd the deadly dagger in his breast. 
 
 Niobe now, less haughty than before, 
 
 With lofty head directs her steps no more. 
 
 She, who late told her pedigree divine, 
 
 And drove the Thebans from Latona's shrine, 
 
 How strangely chang'd! yet beautiful in woe, 
 
 She weeps, nor weeps unpity'd by the foe. 
 
 On each pale corse the wretched mother spread 
 
 Lay overwhelm'd with grief, and kiss'd her dead, 
 
 Then rais'd her arms, and thus in accents slow, 
 
 "Be sated cruel Goddess! with my woe; 
 
 "If I've offended, let these streaming eyes, 
 
 "And let this sev'nfold funeral suffice : 
 
 "Ah take this wretched life you deigned to save, 
 
 "With them I too am carried to the grave. 
 
 "Rejoice triumphant, my victorious foe, 
 
 "But show the cause from whence your triumphs 
 
 flow? 
 
 "Tho' I unhappy mourn these children slain, 
 "Yet greater numbers to my lot remain." 
 She ceas'd, the bow string twang'd with awful 
 
 sound, 
 Which struck with terror all th' assembly round, 
 
 77 
 
> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <g> 
 
 Except the queen, who stood unmov'd alone, 
 
 By her distresses more presumptuous grown. 
 
 Near the pale corses stood their sisters fair 
 
 In sable vestures and dishevell'd hair 
 
 One, while she draws the fatal shaft away, 
 
 Faints, falls and sickens at the light of day. 
 
 To soothe her mother, lo ! another flies, 
 
 And blames the fury of inclement skies, 
 
 And, while her words a filial pity show, 
 
 .Struck dumb indignant seeks the shades below. 
 
 Now from the fatal place another flies, 
 
 Falls in her flight, and languishes, and dies. 
 
 Another on her sister drops in death; 
 
 A fifth in trembling terrors yields her breath; 
 
 While the sixth seeks some gloomy cave in vain, 
 
 Struck with the rest and mingled with the slain. 
 
 One only daughter lives, and she the least ; 
 The queen close clasp'd the daughter to her breast: 
 '"Ye heav'nly pow'rs, ah spare me one," she cry'd, 
 ""Ah! spare me one," the vocal hills reply'd : 
 In vain she begs, the fates her suit deny, 
 In her embrace she sees her daughter die. 
 
 *The queen of all her family bereft, 
 ""Without or husband, son, or daughter left, 
 
 *This Verse to the End i* the Work of another Hand. 
 
 78 
 
<g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <g> 
 
 1 'Grew stupid at the shock. The passing air 
 "Made no impression on her stiffening hair. 
 "The blood forsook her face : amidst the flood 
 "Pour'd from her cheeks, quite fix'd her eye-balls 
 
 stood. 
 
 "Her tongue, her palate both obdurate grew, 
 "Her curdled veins no longer motion knew; 
 ^The use of neck, and arms, and feet was gone, 
 "And ev'n her bowels hard'ned into stone : 
 "A marble statue now the queen appears, 
 "But from the marble steal the silent tears." 
 
 OJri &. fH., a Ifomtg Afrtran Ifamtrr, on 
 iiis Wnrks 
 
 To show the lab' ring bosom's deep intent, 
 And thought in living characters to paint. 
 When first thy pencil did those beauties give, 
 And breathing figures learnt from thee to live, 
 How did those prospects give my soul delight, 
 A new creation rushing on my sight? 
 Still, wond'rous youth! each noble path pursue, 
 On deathless glories fix thine ardent view : 
 Still may the painter's and the poet's fire 
 To aid thy pencil, and thy verse conspire! 
 
 79 
 
<g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 And may the charms of each seraphic theme 
 Conduct thy footsteps to immortal fame! 
 High to the blissful wonders of the skies 
 Elate thy soul, and raise thy wishful eyes. 
 Thrice happy, when exalted to survey 
 That splendid city, crown'd with endless day, 
 Whose twice six gates on radiant hinges ring : 
 Celestial Salem blooms in endless spring. 
 
 Calm and serene thy moments glide along, 
 And may the muse inspire each future song ! 
 Still, with the sweets of contemplation bless'd, 
 May peace with balmy wings your soul invest ! 
 But when these shades of time are chas'd away, 
 And darkness ends in everlasting day, 
 On what seraphic pinions shall we move, 
 And view the landscapes in the realms above? 
 There shall thy tongue in heav'nly murmurs fl 
 And there my muse with heav'nly transport glow 
 No more to tell of Damon s tender sighs, 
 Or rising radiance of Aurora's eyes, 
 For nobler themes demand a nobler strain, 
 And purer language on th' ethereal plain. 
 Cease, gentle muse! the solemn gloom of night 
 Now seals the fair creation from my sight. 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 an 
 0f ^ts ffiabij, JHarrlj 24, 1773 
 
 All-Conquering Death! by thy resistless pow'r, 
 
 Hope's tow'ring plumage falls to rise no more I 
 
 Of scenes terrestrial how the glories fly, 
 
 Forget their splendors, and submit to die ! 
 
 Who ere escap'd thee, but the saint* of old 
 
 And the great sage,** whom fiery coursers drew 
 
 To heav'n's bright portals from Elishas view ; 
 
 Wond'ring he gaz'd at the refulgent car, 
 
 Then snatch'd the mantle floating on the air. 
 
 From Death these only could exemption boast. 
 
 And without dying gain'd th' immortal coast. 
 
 Not falling millions sate the tyrant's mind, 
 
 Nor can the victor's progress be confin'd. 
 
 But cease thy strife with Death, fond Nature, 
 
 cease : 
 
 He leads the virtuous to the realms of peace ; 
 His to conduct to the immortal plains, 
 Where heav'n's Supreme in bliss and glory reigns. 
 There sits, illustrious Sir, thy beauteous spouse; 
 A gem-blaz'd circle beaming on her brows, 
 
 *Enoch. **EHjah, 
 
 81 
 
<B> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley <gf> 
 
 Hail'd with acclaim among the heav'nly choirs, 
 Her soul new-kindling with seraphic fires, 
 To notes divine she tunes the vocal strings, 
 While heav'n's high concave with the music rings. 
 Virtue's rewards can mortal pencil paint? 
 No all descriptive arts, and eloquence are faint; 
 Nor canst thou, Oliver, assent refuse 
 To heav'nly tidings from the Afric muse. 
 
 As soon may change thy laws eternal fate, 
 As the saint miss the glories I relate ; 
 Or her Benevolence forgotten lie, 
 Which wip'd the trick'ling tear from Mis'ry's eye. 
 Whene'er the adverse winds were known to blow, 
 When loss to loss* ensu'd, and woe to woe, 
 Calm and serene beneath her father's hand 
 She sat resign'd to the divine command. 
 
 No longer then, great Sir, her death deplore, 
 And let us hear the mournful sigh no more, 
 Restrain the sorrow streaming from thine eye, 
 Be all thy future moments crown'd with joy! 
 Nor let thy wishes be to earth confin'd, 
 But soaring high pursue th' unbodied mind. 
 Forgive the muse, forgive th' advent'rous lays, 
 That fain thy soul to heav'nly scenes would raise. 
 
 *Three amiable Daughters who died when just arrived to Women's 
 Estate. 
 
 82 
 
The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 A JfamwU to Ammra 
 
 Mr*. S. 
 
 Adieu, New-England's smiling meads 
 Adieu, the flow'ry plain : 
 I leave thine op'ning charms, O spring 
 And tempt the roaring main. 
 
 II 
 
 In vain for me the flow'rets rise, 
 And boast their gaudy pride, 
 While here beneath the Northern skies 
 I mourn for health deny'd. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Celestial maid of rosy hue, 
 
 let me feel thy reign ! 
 
 1 languish till thy face I view 
 Thy vanish' d joys regain. 
 
 83 
 
<B> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 IV 
 
 Susannah mourns, nor can I bear, . 
 To see the crystal flow'r, 
 Or mark the tender falling- tear 
 At sad departure's hour ; 
 
 V 
 
 Not unregarding can I see 
 Her soul with grief opprest 
 So let no sigh, nor groans for rhe 
 Steal from her pensive breast. 
 
 VI 
 
 In vain the feather'd warblers sing, 
 In vain the garden blooms, 
 And on the bosom of the spring 
 Breathes out her sweet perfumes. 
 
 VII 
 
 While for Britannia's distant shore 
 We sweep the liquid plain, 
 And with astonished eyes explore 
 The wide-extended main. 
 
 84 
 
} The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 VIII 
 
 Lo ! Health appears ! celestial dame ! 
 Complacent and serene, 
 With Hebe's mantle o'er her Frame, 
 With soul-delighting mein. 
 
 IX 
 
 To mark the vale where London lies 
 With misty vapors crown'd 
 Which cloud Aurora's thousand dyes, 
 And veil her charms around. 
 
 Why, Phoebus, moves thy car so slow ? 
 So slow thy rising ray? 
 Give us the famous town to view, 
 Thou glorious king of day! 
 
 XI 
 
 For thee, Britannia, I resign 
 New-England's smiling fields; 
 To view again her charms divine. 
 What joy the prospect yields ! 
 
 85 
 
<g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 XII 
 
 But thou! Temptation hence away r 
 With all thy fatal train 
 Nor once seduce my soul away, 
 By thine enchanting- strain. 
 
 XIII 
 
 Thrice happy they, whose heav'nly shield 
 Secures their souls from harms 
 And fell Temptation on the field 
 Of all its pow'r disarms! 
 
 Boston, May 7, 1773, 
 
 3L 
 
 A bird, delicious to the taste, 
 
 On which an army once did feast, 
 
 Sent by an hand unseen ; 
 
 A creature of the horned race, 
 
 Which Britain's royal standards grace ; 
 
 A gem of vivid green; 
 
 86 
 
<Q> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley 
 
 II 
 
 A town of gaiety and sport, 
 
 Where beaux and beauteous nymphs resort, 
 
 And gallantry doth reign; 
 
 A Dardan hero fam'd of old 
 
 For youth and beauty, as we're told,. 
 
 And by a monarch slain ; 
 
 III 
 
 A peer of popular applause, 
 Who doth our violated laws, 
 And grievances proclaim. 
 Th' initials show a vanquished town, 
 That adds fresh glory and renown 
 To old Britannia's fame. 
 
 Att Answer 10 tljr Srhns, bg ttj Autljflr nf 
 
 The poet asks, and Phillis can't refuse. 
 To show th' obedience of the Infant muse. 
 She knows the Quail of most inviting taste 
 Fed Israel's army in the dreary waste; 
 And what's on Britain's royal standard borne, 
 But the tall, graceful, rampant Unicorn? 
 
 87 
 
g> The Poems of Phillis Wheatley < 
 
 The Emerald with a vivid verdue glows 
 
 Among the gems which regal crowns compose; 
 
 Boston's a town, polite and debonair, 
 
 To which the beaux and beauteous nymphs repair,. 
 
 Each Helen strikes the mind with sweet surprise, 
 
 While living lightning flashes from her eyes, 
 
 See young Euphorbus of the Dardan line 
 
 By Menelaus hand to death resign ; 
 
 The well known peer of popular applause 
 
 Is C m zealous to support our laws. 
 
 Quebec now vanquished must obey, 
 She too must annual tribute pay 
 To Britain of immortal fame. 
 And add new glory to her name. 
 
 FINIS.