Religious and Moral Poems - Phillis Wheatley (ebook reader web txt) š
- Author: Phillis Wheatley
- Performer: -
Book online Ā«Religious and Moral Poems - Phillis Wheatley (ebook reader web txt) šĀ». Author Phillis Wheatley
Fancy might now her silken pinions try To rise from earth, and sweep thā expanse on high: From Tithonās bed now might Aurora rise, Her cheeks all glowing with celestial dies, While a pure stream of light oāerflows 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 Fancyās flowing sea, Cease then, my song, cease the unequal lay.
A Funeral POEM on the Death of C. E.
an Infant of Twelve Months.
THROUGH airy roads he wings his instant flight To purer regions of celestial light; Enlargād he sees unnumberād systems roll, Beneath him sees the universal whole, Planets on planets run their destinād round, And circling wonders fill the vast profound. Thā ethereal now, and now thā empyreal skies With growing splendors strike his wondāring eyes: The angels view him with delight unknown, Press his soft hand, and seat him on his throne; Then smilling thus: āTo this divine abode, āThe seat of saints, of seraphs, and of God, āThrice welcome thou.ā The rapturād babe replies, āThanks to my God, who snatchād me to the skies, āEāer vice triumphant had possessād my heart, āEāer yet the tempter had beguil d my heart, āEāer yet on sinās base actions I was bent, āEāer yet I knew temptationās dire intent; āEāer yet the lash for horrid crimes I felt, āEāer vanity had led my way to guilt, āBut, soon arrivād at my celestial goal, āFull glories rush on my expanding soul.ā Joyful he spoke: exulting cherubs round Clapt their glad wings, the heavānly 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 By thoughtless wishes, and prepostārous love? Doth his felicity increase your pain? Or could you welcome to this world again The heir of bliss? with a superior air Methinks he answers with a smile severe, āThrones and dominions cannot tempt me there.ā
But still you cry, āCan we the sigh borbear, āAnd still and still must we not pour the tear? āOur only hope, more dear than vital breath, āTwelve moons revolvād, becomes the prey of death; āDelightful infant, nightly visions give āThee to our arms, and we with joy receive, āWe fain would clasp the Phantom to our breast, āThe Phantom flies, and leaves the soul unblest.ā
To yon bright regions let your faith ascend, Prepare to join your dearest infant friend In pleasures without measure, without end.
To Captain HāāD, of the 65th Regiment.
SAY, muse divine, can hostile scenes delight The warriorās bosom in the fields of fight? Lo! here the christian and the hero join With mutual grace to form the man divine. In HāāD 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 honourād name, Still to the field, and still to virtue true: Britannia glories in no son like you.
To the Right Honourable WILLIAM, Earl
of DARTMOUTH, His Majestyās Principal
Secretary of State for North-America, &c.
HAIL, happy day, when, smiling like the morn, Fair Freedom rose New-England to adorn: 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 Freedomās charms unfold. Long lost to realms beneath the northern skies She shines supreme, while hated faction dies: Soon as appearād the Goddess long desirād, Sick at the view, she languishād and expirād; 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 unredressād complain, No longer shalt thou dread the iron chain, Which wanton Tyranny with lawless hand Had made, and with it meant tā enslave the land.
Should you, my lord, while you peruse 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 snatchād from Africās fancyād happy seat: What pangs excruciating must molest, What sorrows labour in my parentās breast? Steelād was that soul and by no misery movād That from a father seizād his babe belovād: 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 to renew, Since in thy powār, as in thy will before, To sooth the griefs, which thou didāst once deplore. May heavānly 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 patriotās name, But to conduct to heavāns refulgent fane, May fiery coursers sweep thā ethereal plain, And bear thee upwards to that blest abode, Where, like the prophet, thou shalt find thy God.
O D E T O N E P T U N E.
On Mrs. Wāāās Voyage to England.
I. WHILE raging tempests shake the shore, While AElusā thunders round us roar, And sweep impetuous oāer the plain Be still, O tyrant of the main; Nor let thy brow contracted frowns betray, While my Susanna skims the watāry way.
II. The Powār propitious hears the lay, The blue-eyād daughters of the sea With sweeter cadence glide along, And Thames responsive joins the song. Pleasād with their notes Sol sheds benign his ray, And double radiance decks the face of day.
III. To court thee to Britanniaās arms
Serene the climes and mild the sky, Her region boasts unnumberād charms,
Thy welcome smiles in evāry eye. Thy promise, Neptune keep, record my prayār, Not give my wishes to the empty air.
Boston, October 12, 1772.
To a LADY on her coming to North-America
with her Son, for the Recovery of her
Health.
INDULGENT muse! my grovāling mind inspire, And fill my bosom with celestial fire. See from Jamaicaās 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 Neptuneās watāry realm reclinād Appearād, and thus invites the lingāring wind.
āArise, ye winds, America explore, āWaft me, ye gales, from this malignant shore; āThe Northern milder climes I long to greet, āThere hope that health will my arrival meet.ā Soon as she spoke in my ideal view The winds assented, and the vessel flew.
Madam, your spouse bereft of wife and son, In the groveās dark recesses pours his moan; Each branch, wide-spreading to the ambient sky, Forgets its verdure, and submits to die.
From thence I turn, and leave the sultry plain, And swift pursue thy passage oāer the main: The ship arrives before the favāring wind, And makes the Philadelphian port assignād, Thence I attend you to Bostoniaās arms, Where genārous friendship evāry bosom warms: Thrice welcome here! may health revive again, Bloom on thy cheek, and bound in evāry vein! Then back return to gladden evāry heart, And give your spouse his soulās far dearer part, Receivād again with what a sweet surprise, The tear in transport starting from his eyes! While his attendant son with blooming grace Springs to his fatherās ever dear embrace. With shouts of joy Jamaicaās rocks resound, With shouts of joy the country rings around.
To a LADY on her remarkable Preservation
in an Hurricane in North-Carolina.
THOUGH thou didāst hear the tempest from afar, And feltāst the horrors of the watāry war, To me unknown, yet on this peaceful shore Methinks I hear the storm tumultuous roar, And how stern Boreas with impetuous hand Compellād the Nereids to usurp the land. Reluctant rose the daughters of the main, And slow ascending glided oāer 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 windās fierce tyrant roars, And with his thundāring terrors shakes the shores: Broken by waves the vesselās frame is rent, And strows with planks the watāry element.
But thee, Maria, a kind Nereidās shield Preservād from sinking, and thy form upheld: And sure some heavānly oracle designād At that dread crisis to instruct thy mind Things of eternal consequence to weigh, And to thine heart just feelings to convey Of things above, and of the future doom, And what the births of the dread world to come.
From tossing seas I welcome thee to land. āResign her, Nereid,ā ātwas thy Godās command. Thy spouse late buried, as thy fears conceivād, Again returns, thy fears are all relievād: Thy daughter blooming with superior grace Again thou seeāst, again thine arms embrace; O come, and joyful show thy spouse his heir, And what the blessings of maternal care!
To a LADY and her Children, on the Death
of her Son and their Brother.
OāERWHELMING sorrow now demands my song: From death the overwhelming sorrow sprung. What flowing tears? What hearts with grief opprest? What sighs on sighs heave the fond parentās breast? The brother weeps, the hapless sisters join Thā increasing woe, and swell the crystal brine; The poor, who once his genārous bounty fed, Droop, and bewail their benefactor dead. In death the friend, the kind companion lies, And in one death what various comfort dies!
Thā unhappy mother sees the sanguine rill Forget to flow, and natureās wheels stand still, But see from earth his spirit far removād, And know no grief recals your best-belovād: He, upon pinions swifter than the wind, Has left mortalityās sad scenes behind For joys to this terrestial state unknown, And glories richer than the monarchās crown. Of virtueās 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 adventārous strain.
No more in briny showārs, 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 heavānly shore, On harps of gold to tune immortal lays, And to your God immortal anthems raise.
To a GENTLEMAN and LADY on the Death
of the Ladyās Brother and Sister, and a
Child of the Name of Avis, aged one Year.
ON Deathās domain intent I fix my eyes, Where human nature in vast ruin lies: With pensive mind I search the drear abode, Where the great conquāror has his spoils bestowād; 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 dryād, 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 oāer this mortal
Comments (0)