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@@ -0,0 +1,2664 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Religious and Moral Poems, by Phillis Wheatley + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Religious and Moral Poems + +Author: Phillis Wheatley + +Posting Date: August 3, 2008 [EBook #409] +Release Date: January, 1996 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RELIGIOUS AND MORAL POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by Judith Boss + + + + + + + + + + POEMS + + ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS, + + RELIGIOUS AND MORAL. + + + BY PHILLIS WHEATLEY, + + + NEGRO SERVANT TO MR. JOHN WHEATLEY, + OF BOSTON, IN NEW-ENGLAND. + + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + + To Maecenas + On Virtue + To the University of Cambridge, in New England + To the King's Most Excellent Majesty + On being brought from Africa + On the Rev. Dr. Sewell + On the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield + On the Death of a young Lady of five Years of Age + On the Death of a young Gentleman + To a Lady on the Death of her Husband + Goliath of Gath + Thoughts on the Works of Providence + To a Lady on the Death of three Relations + To a Clergyman on the Death of his Lady + An Hymn to the Morning + An Hymn to the Evening + On Isaiah lxiii. 1-8 + On Recollection + On Imagination + A Funeral Poem on the Death of an Infant aged twelve Months + To Captain H. D. of the 65th Regiment + To the Right Hon. William, Earl of Dartmouth + Ode to Neptune + To a Lady on her coming to North America with + her Son, for the Recovery of her Health + To a Lady on her remarkable Preservation in a + Hurricane in North Carolina + To a Lady and her Children on the Death of the Lady's Brother + and Sister, and a Child of the Name + of Avis, aged one Year + On the Death of Dr. Samuel Marshall, + To a Gentleman on his Voyage to Great-Britain, + for the Recovery of his Health + To the Rev. Dr. Thomas Amory on reading his Sermons + on Daily Devotion, in which that Duty is + recommended and assisted + On the Death of J. C. an Infant + An Hymn to Humanity + To the Hon. T. H. Esq; on the Death of his Daughter + 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 + + To S. M. a young African Painter, on seeing his Works + To his Honour the Lieutenant-Governor, + on the Death of his Lady + A Farewel to America + A Rebus by I. B. + An Answer to ditto, by Phillis Wheatley + + + + TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE + COUNTESS OF HUNTINGDON, + THE FOLLOWING + P O E M S + ARE MOST RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED. + BY HER MUCH OBLIGED, + VERY HUMBLE + AND DEVOTED SERVANT. + PHILLIS WHEATLEY. + + BOSTON, JUNE 12, 1773. + + + +P R E F A C E. + +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 Appearance, but at the Importunity of many of her best, and most +generous Friends; to whom she considers herself, as under 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 laboured under, with Regard to Learning, +nothing needs to be offered, as her Master'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. + + + +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 Assistance 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 Astonishment of all who heard her. + +As to her WRITING, her own Curiosity led her to it; and this she learnt +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 bought her, +and with whom she now lives. + + JOHN WHEATLEY. + + Boston, Nov. 14, 1772. + + + + +To the PUBLIC. + +AS it has been repeatedly suggested to the Publisher, by Persons, who +have seen the Manuscript, that Numbers would be ready to suspect they +were not really the Writings of PHILLIS, he has procured the following +Attestation, from the most respectable Characters in Boston, that none +might have the least Ground for disputing their Original. + +WE whose Names are under-written, do assure the World, that the POEMS +specified in the following Page,* 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 of 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, | The Rev. Charles Chauncey, D. D. + The Hon. John Erving, | The Rev. Mather Byles, D. D. + The Hon. James Pitts, | The Rev. Ed. Pemberton, D. D. + The Hon. Harrison Gray, | The Rev. Andrew Elliot, D. D. + The Hon. James Bowdoin, | The Rev. Samuel Cooper, D. D. + John Hancock, Esq; | The Rev. Mr. Saumel Mather, + Joseph Green, Esq; | The Rev. Mr. John Moorhead, + Richard Carey, Esq; | Mr. John Wheat ey, her Master. + + N. B. The original Attestation, signed by the above Gentlemen, + may be seen by applying to Archibald Bell, Bookseller, + No. 8, Aldgate-Street. + + _________________________________________________________ + + *The Words "following Page," allude to the Contents + of the Manuscript Copy, with are wrote at the + Back of the above Attestation. + + + + + P O E M S + + O N + + V A R I O U S S U B J E C T S. + + ___________ + + + To M AE C E N A S. + + MAECENAS, you, 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! circumfus'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 length'ning 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, + And stern Pelides tend'rest passions move. + Great Maro'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 become, + Not you, 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 inspir'd, + His soul replenish'd, and his bosom fir'd; + But say, ye Muses, why this partial grace, + To one alone of Afric's sable race; + From age to age transmitting thus his name + With the finest glory in the rolls of fame? + 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 honour'd head, + While you indulgent smile upon the deed. + + *He was an African by birth. + + 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 shal' make Parnassus ring: + Then grant, Maecenas, thy paternal rays, + Hear me propitious, and defend my lays. + + + + O N V I R T U E. + + 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, + 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 me an higher appellation still, + Teach me a better strain, a nobler lay, + O thou, enthron'd with Cherubs in the realms of day. + + + + TO THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE, IN NEW-ENGLAND. + + 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. + 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 out-stretcht 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 shun'd, 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. + + + + TO THE KING'S MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY. 1768. + + 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 favours past, + The meanest peasants most admire the last* + May George, beloved by all the nations round, + Live with heav'ns 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! + + * The Repeal of the Stamp Act. + + + On being brought from Africa to America. + + '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 colour is a diabolic die." + Remember, Christians, Negroes, black as Cain, + May be refin'd, and join th' angelic train. + + + + On the Death of the Rev. Dr. SEWELL, 1769. + + ERE yet the morn its lovely blushes spread, + See Sewell number'd with the happy dead. + Hail, holy man, arriv'd th' immortal shore, + Though we shall hear thy warning voice no more. + 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 promis'd for the Saviour's sake! + "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 the 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's blood, + "A sinner once, but now a saint with God; + "Behold ye rich, ye poor, ye fools, ye wise, + "Not 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 blooming 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 int'rest in his saving love. + "Mourn him, ye youth, to whom he oft has told + "God's gracious wonders from the times of old. + "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." + + + + On the Death of the Rev. Mr. GEORGE WHITEFIELD. 1770. + + 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 unmeasur'd 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 + 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 excell; + 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 thirsty, 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 you, + "Impartial Saviour is his title due: + "Wash'd in the fountain of redeeming blood, + "You shall be sons, and kings, and priests to God." + Great Countess,* we Americans revere + Thy name, and mingle in thy grief sincere; + New England deeply feels, the Orphans mourn, + Their more than father will no more return. + But, though arrested by the hand of death, + Whitefield 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. + + *The Countess of Huntingdon, to whom Mr. Whitefield was Chaplain. + + + + On the Death of a young Lady of Five Years of Age. + + FROM dark abodes to fair etherial light + Th' enraptur'd 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'd 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. + "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. + + + + On the Death of a young Gentleman. + + WHO taught thee conflict with the pow'rs of night, + To vanquish satan in the fields of light? + 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 deckt 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 sooth the troubles of the mind to peace, + To still the tumult of life's tossing seas, + To ease the anguish of the parents heart, + What shall my sympathizing verse impart? + Where is the balm to heal so deep a wound? + Where shall a sov'reign remedy be found? + Look, gracious Spirit, from thine heav'nly bow'r, + And thy full joys into their bosoms pour; + 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. + + + + To a Lady on the Death of her Husband. + + GRIM monarch! see, depriv'd of vital breath, + A young physician in the dust of death: + Dost thou go on incessant to destroy, + Our griefs to double, and lay waste our joy? + Enough thou never yet wast known to say, + Though millions die, the vassals of thy sway: + Nor youth, nor science, not the ties of love, + Nor ought 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 hurl'd + Till nature in her final wreck shall lie, + And her last groan shall rend the azure sky: + Not, 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 for ever 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. + + + + G O L I A T H O F G A T H. + 1 SAMUEL, Chap. xvii. + + 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 + 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 armour 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: + "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 vanquish'd 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 Elah's vale the scene of combat lies. + When the fair morning blush'd with orient red, + What David's fire 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. + 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, + "But back in safety from the field depart." + 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: "Dar'st thou a stripling go, + "And venture combat with so great a foe? + "Who all his days has been inur'd 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 + "Bold 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." + 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: + "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 protection to thy body yield: + "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 slung + 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: + 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 th' 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 Edron 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. + 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." + + + + Thoughts on the WORKS OF PROVIDENCE. + + A R I S E, my soul, on wings enraptur'd, rise + To praise the monarch of the earth and skies, + Whose goodness and benificence appear + As round its centre 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 intend. + 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 is his height, + And yet his radiance dazzles mortal sight + So far beneath--from him th' extended earth + Vigour derives, and ev'ry flow'ry birth: + Vast through her orb she moves with easy grace + Around her Phoebus in unbounded space; + 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 Pow'r, what Wisdom, and what Goodness shine! + And are thy wonders, Lord, by men explor'd, + 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, + Abhorring life! how hate its length'ned 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. + 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 hills 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 mispent, that never will return. + But see the sons of vegetation rise, + And spread their leafy banners to the skies. + All-wise Almighty Providence we trace + In trees, and plants, and all the flow'ry race; + 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! + 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 + O'erflowing 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 whisp'ring 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 pronounc'd, and Reason thus reply'd. + "Thy birth, coelestial 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. + 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 arry'd with mercy shine, + What songs should rise, how constant, how divine! + + + + To a Lady on the Death of three Relations. + + 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 flies + Beyond Olympus, and these starry skies. + 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 heart. + Weep not for 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 ehtereal 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 th' immortal strings + To strains extatic. Thou the chorus join, + And to thy father tune the praise divine. + + + + To a Clergyman on the Death of his Lady. + + WHERE contemplation finds her sacred spring, + Where heav'nly music makes the arches ring, + Where virtue reigns unsully'd and divine, + Where wisdom thron'd, and all the graces shine, + There sits thy spouse amidst the radiant throng, + While praise eternal warbles from her tongue; + 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; + "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 stone, + "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 beam'd 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 wafted by the wind, + No more complain, but be to heav'n resign'd + 'Twas thine t' unfold the oracles divine, + To sooth 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! + + + + An HYMN to the MORNING + + ATTEND my lays, ye ever honour'd 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 beams too strong, + And scarce begun, concludes th' abortive song. + + + + An HYMN to the EVENING. + + 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 ev'ry virtue glow, + The living temples of our God below! + Fill'd with the praise of him who gives the light, + And draws the sable curtains of the night, + Let placid slumbers sooth each weary mind, + At morn to wake more heav'nly, more refin'd; + So shall the labours 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. + + + + ISAIAH lxiii. 1-8. + + SAY, heav'nly muse, what king or mighty God, + That moves sublime from Idumea's road? + In Bosrah's 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 Pow'r of war? + Compres'd in wrath the swelling wine-press groan'd, + 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 my own; + "For man's release sustain'd 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 sustain'd the right, + His vengeance sunk the haughty foes in night; + Beneath his feet the prostrate troops were spread, + And round him lay the dying, and the dead. + Great God, what light'ning 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. + + + + On RECOLLECTION. + + 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 visions pours + The ample treasure of her secret stores; + Swift from above the wings her silent flight + Through Phoebe's realms, fair regent of the night; + 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, enthron'd 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 mispent, 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. + 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 hers t' impart + To ev'ry holy, ev'ry upright heart! + Thrice blest the man, who, in her sacred shrine, + Feels himself shelter'd from the wrath divine! + + + + On IMAGINATION. + + 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: + 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 thund'ring 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 honours round, + And all the forest may with leaves be crown'd: + Show'rs may descend, and dews their gems disclose, + 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 sov'reign 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 Tithon's 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. + + + + 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; + 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 smilling thus: "To this divine abode, + "The seat of saints, of seraphs, and of God, + "Thrice welcome thou." The raptur'd babe replies, + "Thanks to my God, who snatch'd me to the skies, + "E'er vice triumphant had possess'd my heart, + "E'er yet the tempter had beguil d my heart, + "E'er yet on sin's base actions I was bent, + "E'er yet I knew temptation's 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." + 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 + By thoughtless wishes, and prepost'rous 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, + "Thrones and dominions cannot tempt me 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 the 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, + "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. + + + + To Captain H-----D, of the 65th Regiment. + + 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. + + + + To the Right Honourable WILLIAM, Earl + of DARTMOUTH, His Majesty's 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 Freedom's charms unfold. + 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 with it meant t' 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 snatch'd from Afric's fancy'd happy seat: + What pangs excruciating must molest, + What sorrows labour in my parent's breast? + Steel'd was that 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 to renew, + Since in thy pow'r, as in thy will before, + To sooth the griefs, which thou did'st 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'ns refulgent fane, + May fiery coursers sweep th' 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. W-----'s Voyage to England. + + I. + + WHILE raging tempests shake the shore, + While AElus' 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 Susanna skims the wat'ry way. + + II. + + The Pow'r propitious hears the lay, + The blue-ey'd daughters of the sea + With sweeter cadence glide along, + And Thames responsive joins the 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, + 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 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 + Appear'd, and thus invites the ling'ring wind. + "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, your 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 verdure, 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. + + + + To a LADY on her remarkable Preservation + in an Hurricane in North-Carolina. + + THOUGH thou did'st hear the tempest from afar, + 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 + 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. + "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! + + + + To a LADY and her Children, on the Death + of her Son and their Brother. + + O'ERWHELMING 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 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! + 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 terrestial 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. + + + + 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. + + 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 where 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: + 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 seas 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. + + + + On the Death of Dr. SAMUEL MARSHALL. 1771. + + 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, + 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, + Clings round his mother's neck, and weeps his sorrows 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 ling'ring 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. + + + + To a GENTLEMAN on his Voyage to Great-Britain + for the Recovery of his Health. + + WHILE others chant of gay Elysian scenes, + Of balmy zephyrs, 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 embow'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 prolong'd the fleeting breath, + Turn'd back the shafts, and mock'd the gates of death, + 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! + + + + To the Rev. DR. THOMAS AMORY, on + reading his Sermons on DAILY DEVOTION, + in which that Duty is recommended and + assisted. + + 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, + 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 Atheist 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 which a muse can give, + And when this transitory state is o'er, + When kingdoms fall, and fleeting Fame's no more, + May Amory triumph in immortal fame, + A nobler title, and superior name! + + + + On the Death of J. C. an Infant. + + NO more the flow'ry scenes of pleasure rife, + 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, + Groans 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 Pow'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?" + Methinks a cherub bending from the skies + Observes the question, and serene replies, + "In heav'ns high palaces 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, + 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 foul-enchanting strain + Dwells on his tongue, and fills th' ethereal plain? + Enough--for ever cease your murm'ring breath; + 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. + + + + An H Y M N to H U M A N I T Y. + To S. P. G. Esq; + + I. + + LO! 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 succour man's afflicted son + "Each human heart inspire: + "To act in bounties unconfin'd + "Enlarge the close contracted mind, + "And fill it with thy fire." + + 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 + Perceiv'd 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. + + + + To the Honourable T. H. Esq; on the Death + of his Daughter. + + 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 declin'd! + Expanding free, it sought the means to prove + Unfailing charity, unbounded love! + She unreluctant flies to see no more + Her dear-lov'd parents on earth's dusky shore: + Impatient heav'n's 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, + Where new creations feast her wond'ring eyes. + To heav'n's high mandate cheerfully resign'd + She mounts, and leaves the rolling globe behind; + She, who late wish'd that 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 kingdom 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-----! to return: + "Let brighter scenes your ev'ning-hours employ: + "Converse with heav'n, and taste the promis'd joy" + + + + 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. + + 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 distinguish'd by Dodonean Jove, + To approach the tables of the gods above: + Her grandsire Atlas, who with mighty pains + Th' ethereal axis on his neck sustains: + Her other grandsire on the throne on high + Rolls the loud-pealing thunder thro' the sky. + 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 words 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 mighty skill, + The past to explore, the future to reveal. + Thro' Thebes' wide streets Tiresia's daughter came, + Divine Latona's mandate to proclaim: + The Theban maids to hear the orders ran, + When thus Maeonia's prophetess began: + "Go, Thebans! great Latona's will obey, + "And pious tribute at her altars pay: + "With rights divine, the goddess be implor'd, + "Nor be her sacred offspring unador'd." + Thus Manto spoke. The Theban 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, 'midst 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 Caeus offspring is obey'd, + "While to my goddesship no tribute's paid? + "For me no altars blaze with living fires, + "No bullock bleeds, no frankincense transpires, + "Tho' Cadmus' palace, not unknown to fame, + "And Phrygian nations all revere my name. + "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 Latona's 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 laurel 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. + "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 incompass'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 their 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, + He, the first-born of great Amphion's bed, + Was struck the first, first mingled with the dead. + Then didst 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 stretcht 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:) + Soon as the arrow left the deadly wound, + His issuing entrails smoak'd upon the ground. + What woes on blooming Damasichon 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 wounded 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 Ilioneus, the last, directs his pray'r, + And cries, "My life, ye gods celestial! spare." + Apollo heard, and pity touch'd his heart, + But ah! too late, for he had sent the dart: + Thou too, O Ilioneus, 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? + "Dwells there such mischief in the pow'rs above? + "Why sleeps 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 deign'd 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, + 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 sooth 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, + "Grew stupid at the shock. The passing air + "Made no impression on her stiff'ning hair. + + * This Verse to the End is the Work of another Hand. + + "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." + + + + To S. M. a young African Painter, on seeing his Works. + + 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! + 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 flow, + 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. + + + + To his Honour the Lieutenant-Governor, on + the Death of his Lady. March 24, 1773. + + ALL-Conquering Death! by thy resistless pow'r, + Hope's tow'ring plumage falls to rise no more! + Of scenes terrestrial how the glories fly, + Forget their splendors, and submit to die! + Who ere escap'd thee, but the saint * of old + Beyond the flood in sacred annals told, + And the great sage, + whom fiery coursers drew + To heav'n's bright portals from Elisha's 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; + + * Enoch. + Elijah. + + 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. + 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 Misry'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. + + + + A Farewel to AMERICA. To Mrs. S. W. + + I. + + 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. + + III. + + Celestial maid of rosy hue, + O let me feel thy reign! + I languish till thy face I view, + Thy vanish'd joys regain. + + IV. + + Susanna mourns, nor can I bear + To see the crystal show'r, + Or mark the tender falling tear + At sad departure's hour; + + V. + + Not unregarding can I see + Her soul with grief opprest: + But let no sighs, no groans for me, + 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 astonish'd eyes explore + The wide-extended main. + + 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 vapours crown'd, + Which cloud Aurora's thousand dyes, + And veil her charms around. + + X. + + 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! + + XII. + + But thou! Temptation hence away, + 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. + + + + A REBUS, by I. B. + + I. + + 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; + + 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 vanquish'd town, + That adds fresh glory and renown + To old Britannia's fame. + + + An ANSWER to the Rebus, by the Author of these POEMS. + + 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? + The Emerald with a vivid verdure 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 Manelaus' hand to death resign: + The well known peer of popular applause + Is C----m zealous to support our laws. + Quebec now vanquish'd must obey, + She too much annual tribute pay + To Britain of immortal fame. + And add new glory to her name. + + + + F I N I S. + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Religious and Moral Poems, by Phillis Wheatley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RELIGIOUS AND MORAL POEMS *** + +***** This file should be named 409.txt or 409.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/409/ + +Produced by Judith Boss + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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