Various Subjects,
Religious and Moral.

Phillis Wheatley,
Negro Servant to Mr. John Wheatley,
of Boston, in New England.

Printed for A. Bell, Bookseller, Aldgate; and sold by
Messrs. Cox and Berry, King-Street, Boston.


Phillis Wheatley, Negro Servant to Mr. John Wheatley, 2-3 wordsflawed-reproduction.

The author, seated at a table, preparing to write. Her face appears in profile. Her left elbow rests upon the edge of the table, and her left hand touches her chin, with index finger extended slightly. She holds a quill pen in her right hand, which rests on a sheet of paper upon the table. To her left is a small Bible.
Published according to Act of Parliament. 1773-09-01Sept. 1. 1773 by Archd. Be2-3 charflawed-reproduction

Bookseller No. 8 near the Saracens Head Aldgate.


Various Subjects,
Religious and Moral.

Phillis Wheatley,
Negro Servant to Mr. John Wheatley,
of Boston, in New England.

Printed for A. Bell, Bookseller, Aldgate and sold by
Messrs. Cox and Berry, King-Street, Boston.

Entered at Stationers Hall.


To the Right Honourable the
Countess of Huntingdon,

The Following

Are most respectfully

By her much obliged,
Very humble,
And devoted Servant


Phillis Wheatley.



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

As her Attempts in Poetry are
now sent into the World, it is
hoped the Critic will not severly
censure their Defects; and we presume
they have too much Merit to A3r v
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 shew
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 A3v

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 17611761, 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 17651765, 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.


To the Publick.

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, The Words “following Page,” allude to the Contents of
the Manuscript Copy, which are wrote at the Back of the
above Attestation.
were (as we
verily believe) written by Phillis, a young Negro Girl, who
was but a few Years since, brought an uncultivated Barbarian
from Africa, and has ever since been, and now is, under the
Disadvantage 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 Hon. John Erving,
  • The Hon. James Pitts,
  • The Hon. Harrison Gray,
  • The Hon. James Bowdoin,
  • John Hancock, Esq;
  • Joseph Green, Esq;
  • Richard Carey, Esq;
  • The Rev. Charles Chauncy, D.D.
  • The Rev. Mather Byles, D.D.
  • The Rev. Ed. Pemberton, D.D.
  • The Rev. Andrew Elliot, D.D.
  • The Rev. Samuel Cooper, D.D.
  • The Rev. Mr. Samuel Mather,
  • The Rev. Mr. John Moorhead,
  • Mr. John Wheatley, her Master.

N.B. The original Attestation, signed by the above Gentlemen,
may be seen by applying to Archibauld Bell, Bookseller,
No. 8, Aldgate-Street.

A4v B1r

Various Subjects.

To Mæcenas.

Mæcenas, you, beneath the myrtle

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 5

In softer language, and diviner airs.

While Homer paints lo! circumfus’d in air,

Celestial Gods in mortal forms appear;

B Swift B1v 10

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, 15

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. 20

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, 25

And the same ardors in my soul should burn:

Then should my song in bolder notes arise,

And all my numbers pleasingly surprize;

But B2r 11

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, 35

The fault’ring music dies upon my tongue.

The happier Terence He was an African by birth. 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; 40

From age to age transmitting thus his name

With the first glory in the rolls of fame?

Thy virtues, great Mæcenas! shall be sung

In praise of him, from whom those virtues sprung:

B2 While B2v 12

While blooming wreaths around thy temples
spread, 45

I’ll snatch a laurel from thine honour’d head,

While you indulgent smile upon the deed.

As long as Thames in streams majestic flows,

Or Naiads in their oozy beds repose,

While Phœbus reigns above the starry train, 50

While bright Aurora purples o’er the main,

So long, great Sir, the muse thy praise shall sing,

So long thy praise shall make Parnassus ring:

Then grant, Mæcenas, thy paternal rays,

Hear me propitious, and defend my lays. 55

On B3r 13

On Virtue

O Thou bright jewel in my aim I strive

To comprehend thee. Thine own words

Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach.

I cease to wonder, and no more attempt

Thine height t’explore, or fathom thy profound. 5

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, B3v 14

Greatness, or Goodness, say what I shall call thee,

To give an higher appellation still,

Teach me a better strain, a nobler lay,


O thou, enthron’d with Cherubs in the realms of

To B4r 15

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 5

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 10

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: 15

What matchless mercy in the Son of God!

When the whole human race by sin had fall’n,

He B4v 16

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. 20

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 shunn’d, nor once remit your guard; 25

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. 30

To C1r 17

To the King’s Most Excellent Majesty.

Your subjects hope, dread Sire—

The crown upon your brows may flourish

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! 5

Rule thou in peace, our father, and our lord!

Midst the remembrance of thy favours past,

The meanest peasants most admire the last. The Repeal of the Stamp Act.

May George, belov’d by all the nations round,

Live with heav’ns choicest constant blessings
crown’d! 10

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!

C Orn C1v 18

On being brought from Africa to

’Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan

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, 5

“Their colour is a diabolic die.”

Remember, Christians, Negros, black as Cain,

May be refin’d, and join th’ angelic train.

On C2r 19

On the Death of the Rev. Dr. Sewell.

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 5

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, 10

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, 15

What compensation for the evils past!

C2 Great C2v 20

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, 20

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

“Is Sewell dead,” my trembling tongue reply’d,

O what a blessing in his flight deny’d! 25

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’ blood, 30

A sinner once, but now a saint with God;

Behold ye rich, ye poor, ye fools, ye wise,

Nor let his monument your heart surprize;

’Twill tell you what this holy man has done,

Which gives him brighter lustre than the sun.

Listen, C3r 21

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, 40

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. 45

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? 50

When the same graces in our bosoms thrive.”

On C3v 22

On the Death of the Rev. Mr. George
. 17701770.

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, 5

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. 10

Behold the prophet in his tow’ring flight!

He leaves the earth for heav’ns unmeasur’d

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. 15

Thy pray’rs, great saint, and thine incessant cries

Have pierc’d the bosom of thy native skies.

Thou C4r 23

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, 20

He long’d to see America excel;

He charg’d its youth that ev’ry grace divine

Should with full lustre in their conduct shine;

That Saviour, which his soul did first receive,

The greatest gift that ev’n a God can give, 25

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, 30

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: 35

Wash’d in the fountain of redeeming blood,

You shall be sons, and kings, and priests to God.”

Great C4v 24

Great Countess, The Countess of Huntingdon, to whom Mr. Whitefield
was Chaplain.
we Americans revere

Thy name, and mingle in thy grief sincere;

New England deeply feels, the Orphans mourn, 40

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; 45

While the tomb safe retains its sacred trust,

Till life divine re-animates his dust.

On D1r 25

On the Death of a young Lady of Five Years
of Age.

From dark abodes to fair etherial light

Th’ enraptur’d innocent had wing’d her flight;

On the kind bosom of eternal love

She finds unknown beatitude above.

This know, ye parents, nor her loss deplore, 5

She feels the iron hand of pain no more;

The dispensations of unerring grace,

Should turn your sorrows into grateful praise;

Let then no tear for her henceforward flow,

No more distress’d in our dark vale below. 10

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

D Wilt D1v 26

Wilt thou be prais’d? Seraphic pow’rs are faint

Infinite love and majesty to paint.

To thee let all their grateful voices raise,

And saints and angels join their songs of

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, 25

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; 30

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, 35

Shall join your happy babe to part no more.

On D2r 27

On the Death of a young Gentleman.

Who taught thee conflict with the pow’rs
of night,

To vanquish Satan in the fields of sight?

Who strung thy feeble arms with might unknown,

How great thy conquest, and how bright thy

War with each princedom, throne, and pow’r
is o’er. 5

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! 10

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,

D2 To D2v 28

To ease the anguish of the parents heart, 15

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; 20

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 D3r 29

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, 5

Though millions die, the vassals of thy sway:

Nor youth, nor science, nor the ties of love,

Nor aught on earth thy flinty heart can move.

The friend, the spouse from his dire dart to save,

In vain we ask the sovereign of the grave. 10

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 15

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 D3v 30

Not, not till then his active soul shall claim

His body, a divine immortal frame. 20

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 his 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.

Goli- D4r 31

Goliath of Gath.
INTERNAL ERROR. Please report to wwp@neu.edu that regMe is unmatched.1 Sam. 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 D4v 32

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 Phœbus 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 E1r 33

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


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:

E Struck E1v 34

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 his wealth unknown the king will pour,

And give his royal daughter for his dow’r.”


Then Jesse’s youngest hope: “My brethren”

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.”

Eliah E2r 35

Eliah heard, and kindled into ire

To hear his shepherd-brother thus inquire,

And thus begun? “What errand brought thee?”

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.”

Eliah 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


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.”

E2 When E2v 36

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

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


And plac’d a mighty helmet on his head:

The E3r 37

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

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 E3v 38

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

“Your words are lost on me,” the giant

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

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 E4r 39

The giant mov’d, and from his tow’ring height

Survey’d the stripling, and disdain’d the sight,

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

165 The E4v 40

The battle his, the conquest he bestows,

And to our pow’r consigns our hated foes.”

Thus David spoke; Goliath heard and came

To meet the hero in the field of fame.

Ah! fatal meeting to thy troops and thee,


But thou wast deaf to the divine decree;

Young David meets thee, meets thee not in vain;

’Tis thine to perish on th’ ensanguin’d plain.

And now the youth the forceful pebble flung,

Philistia trembled as it whizz’d along:


In his dread forehead, where the helmet ends,

Just o’er the brows the well-aim’d stone descends,

It pierc’d the skull, and shatter’d all the brain,

Prone on his face he tumbled to the plain:

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;

185 The F1r 41

The blood in gushing torrents drench’d the plains,

The soul found passage through the spouting

And now aloud th’ illustrious victor said,

“Where are your boastings now your champion’s

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

In pangs of death the conquest of thine hand;

And David there were thy ten thousands laid:


Thus Israel’s damsels musically play’d.

Near Gath and Ekron many an hero lay,

Breath’d out their souls, and curs’d the light of

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.

F His F1v 42

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

Conferring riches and the royal bride:


“Knit to my soul for ever thou remain

With me, nor quit my regal roof again.”

Thoughts F2r 43

Thoughts on the Works of Providence.

Arise, my soul, on wings enraptur’d, rise

To praise the monarch of the earth and

Whose goodness and beneficence 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 intent.

Celestial muse, my arduous flight sustain,

And raise my mind to a seraphic strain!


Ador’d for ever be the God unseen,

Which round the sun revolves this vast machine,

Though to his eye its mass a point appears:

Ador’d the God that whirls surrounding spheres,

Which first ordain’d that mighty Sol should


The peerless monarch of th’ ethereal train:

F2 Of F2v 44

Of miles twice forty millions is his height,

And yet his radiance dazzles mortal sight

So far beneath—from his th’ extended earth

Vigour derives, and ev’ry flow’ry birth:


Vast through her orb she moves with easy grace

Around her Phœbus 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

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

In F3r 45

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 shews th’ Almighty Cause;

Night F3v 46

Night seals in sleep the wide creation fair,


And all is peaceful but the brow of care.

Again, gay Phœbus, 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, not 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 F4r 47

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


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 F4v 48

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

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

Refer the cause to Recollection’s shrine,


Who loud proclaims my origin divine,

The G1r 49

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, celestial queen! ’tis mine to own,

In thee resplendent is the Godhead shown;

Thy words persuade, my soul enraptur’d feels

Resistless beauty which thy smile reveals.”

Ardent she spoke, and, kindling at her


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,

G The G1v 50

The good of man: yet man ungrateful pays

But little homage, and but little praise.

To him, whose works array’d with mercy


What songs should rise, how constant, how divine!

To G2r 51

To a Lady on the Death of Three Relations.

We trace the pow’r of Death from tomb to

And his are all the ages yet to come.

’Tis his to call the planets from on high,

To blacken Phœbus, 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.

G2 Weep G2v 52

Weep not for them, who wish thine happy mind

To rise with them, and leave the world behind.

As a young plant by hurricanes up torn,


So near its parent lies the newly born—

But ’midst the bright ethereal train behold

It shines superior on a throne of gold:

Then, mourner, cease; let hope thy tears restrain,

Smile on the tomb, and sooth the raging pain.


On yon blest regions fix thy longing view,

Mindless of sublunary scenes below;

Ascend the sacred mount, in thought arise,

And seek substantial, and immortal joys;

Where hope receives, where faith to vision


And raptur’d seraphs tune th’ immortal strings

To strains extatic. Thou the chorus join,

And to thy father tune the praise divine.

To G3r 53

To a Clergyman on the Death of his Lady.

Where contemplation finds her sacred

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 ope their bright ranks for thee;

For thee they wait, and with expectant eye


Thy spouse leans downward from th’ empyreal

O come G3v 54

“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 atone,


And make eternal glory all our own.

He in his death slew ours, and, as he rose,

He crush’d the dire dominion of our foes;

Vain were their hopes to put the God to flight,

Chain us to hell, and bar the gates of light.”


She spoke, and turn’d from mortal scenes her eyes,

Which 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 G4r 55

Thy sighs no more be wasted 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 G4v 56

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 thousands dies,


Which deck thy progress through the vaulted

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


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 H1r 57

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.

H An H1v 58

An Hymn to the Evening.

Soon as the sun forsook the eastern main

The pealing thunder shook the heav’nly

Majestic grandeur! From the zephyr’s wing,

Exhales the incense of the blooming spring.

Soft purl the streams, the birds renew their


And through the air their mingled music floats.

Through all the heav’ns what beauteous dies are

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

And draws the sable curtains of the night,

Let H2r 59

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.

H2 Isaiah H2v 60

INTERNAL ERROR. Please report to wwp@neu.edu that regMe is unmatched.Isaiah lxiii. 1—8.

Say, heav’nly muse, what king, or mighty

That moves sublime from Idumea’s road?

In Bozrah’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?

Compress’d in wrath the swelling wine-press

It bled, and pour’d the gushing purple round.

“Mine was the act, th’ Almighty Saviour

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 H3r 61

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 sound;


His own omnipotence sustain’d the sight,

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


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 H3v 62

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 she wings her silent flight

Through Phœbe’s realms, fair regent of the

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 H4r 63

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 Maro’s entertaining strains

Resounding through the groves, and hills, and

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

In fast sucession round the central sun.

How did the follies of that period pass

Unnotic’d, but behold them writ in brass!

In H4v 64

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 surprize,

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 I1r 65

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


Whose silken fetters all the senses bind,

And soft captivity involves the mind.

I Imagi- I1v 66

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


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

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:

30 Show’rs I2r 67

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.


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.

Fancy might now her silken pinions try

To rise from earth, and sweep th’ expanse on

From Tithon’s bed now might Aurora rise,

Her cheeks all glowing with celestial dies,

While a pure stream of light o’erflows the


The monarch of the day I might behold,

And all the mountains tipt with radiant gold,

I2 But I2v 68

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 Fu-
I3r 69

A Funeral Poem on the Death of C. E.
an Infant of Twelve Months.

Through airy roads he wings his instant

To purer regions of celestial light;

Enlarg’d he sees unnumber’d systems roll,

Beneath him sees the universal whole,

Planets on planets run their destin’d round,


And circling wonders fill the vast profound.

Th’ ethereal now, and now th’ empyreal skies

With growing splendors strike his wond’ring eyes:

The angels view him with delight unknown,

Press his soft hand, and seat him on his throne;

Then smiling thus, “To this divine abode,

The seat of saints, of seraphs, and of God,

Thrice welcome thou.” The raptur’d babe

“Thanks to my God, who snatch’d me to the

“E’er I3v 70

E’er vice triumphant had possessed 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 increse 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

But I4r 71

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

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 I4v 72

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 surprize,


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 K1r 73

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

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.

K No K1v 74

No more, America, in mournful strain


Of wrongs, and grievance unredress’d complain,

No longer shall 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


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


Others may never feel tyrannic sway?

For K2r 75

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

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.

K2 Ode K2v 76

Ode to Neptune.
On Mrs. W—’s Voyage to England.


While raging tempests shake the shore,

While Ælus’ thunders round us roar,

And sweep impetuous o’er the plain

Be still, O tyrant of the main;

Nor let thy brow contracted frowns betray,


While my Susannah skims the wat’ry way.


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 K3r 77


To court thee to Britannia’s arms

Serene the climes and mild the sky,

Her region boasts unnumber’d charms,


Thy welcome smiles in ev’ry eye.

Thy promise, Neptune keep, record my pray’r,

Nor give my wishes to the empty air.

Boston, 1772-10-10October 10, 1772.

To K3v 78

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


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, K4r 79

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 surprize,

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 K4v 80

To a Lady on her remarkable Preservation
in an Hurricane in North Carolina

Though thou did’st hear the tempest from

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 Æolus in his rapid chariot drove

In gloomy grandeur from the vault above:


Furious he comes. His winged sons obey

Their frantic fire, 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 L1r 81

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!

L To L1v 82

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

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, L2r 83

He, upon pinions swifter than the wind,


Has left mortality’s sad scenes behind

For joys to this terrestrial state unknown,

And glories richer than the monarch’s crown.

Of virtue’s steady course the prize behold!

What blissful wonders to his mind unfold!


But of celestial joys I sing in vain:

Attempt not, muse, the too advent’rous strain.

No more in briny show’rs, ye friends around,

Or bathe his clay, or waste them on the ground:

Still do you weep, still wish for his return?


How cruel thus to wish, and thus to mourn?

No more for him the streams of sorrow pour,

But haste to join him on the heav’nly shore,

On harps of gold to tune immortal lays,

And to your God immortal anthems raise.

L2 To L2v 84

To a Gentleman and Lady on the Death of
the Lady’s Brother and Sister, and a Child
of the Name 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 there the offspring of six thousand years


In endless numbers to my view appears:

Whole kingdoms in his gloomy den are thrust,

And nations mix with their primeval dust:

Insatiate still he gluts the ample tomb;

His is the present, his the age to come.


See here a brother, here a sister spread,

And a sweet daughter mingled with the dead.

But, Madam, let your grief be laid aside,

And let the fountain of your tears be dry’d,

In vain they flow to wet the dusty plain,


Your sighs are wasted to the skies in vain,

Your L3r 85

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 L3v 86

On the Death of Dr. Samuel Marshall.

Through thickest glooms look back,
immortal shade,

On that confusion which thy death has made;

Or from Olympus’ height look down, and see

A Town involv’d in grief bereft of thee.

Thy Lucy sees thee mingle with the dead,


And rends the graceful tresses from her head,

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 L4r 87

When sickness call’d for Marshall’s healing


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 Æsculapius 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 L4v 88

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 the 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 M1r 89

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


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

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 surprize,

And own thy work, great Ruler of the skies!

M To M1v 90

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 M2r 91

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!

M2 On M2v 92

On the Death of J.C. an Infant.

No more the flow’ry scenes of pleasure rise,

Nor charming prospects greet the mental

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

Or fail’d his artless beauties to surprize?

Could not his innocence thy stroke controul,

Thy purpose shake, and soften all thy soul?

The M3r 93

The blooming babe, with shades of Death o’ erspread,


No more shall smile, no more shall raise its

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

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 chearful 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’ns refulgent domes repair,

There see your infant, like a seraph glow:

What charms celestial in his numbers flow

Melodious, M3v 94

Melodious, while the soul-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


Chearful resign at the divine command:

Not at your bar must sov’reign Wisdom stand.

An M4r 95

An Hymn to Humanity.
To S. P. G. Esq;


Lo! for this dark terrestrial ball

Forsakes his azure-paved hall

A prince of heav’nly birth!

Diving Humanity behold.

What wonders rise, what charms unfold


At his descent to earth!


The bosoms of the great and good

With wonders and delight he view’d,

And fix’d his empire there:

Him, close compressing to his breast,


The fire of gods and men address’d,

“My son, my heav’nly fair!

III. Descend M4v 96


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.”


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――y! then thy raptur’d heart

Perceiv’d the rushing God:


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 N1r 97


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.

N To N1v 98

To the Honourable T. H. Esq; on the Death
of his Daughter.

While deep you mourn beneath the

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 N2r 99

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 chearfully 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,

N2 “To N2v 100

To see on earth my aged parents mourn,

And secret wish for T――l to return:

Let brighter scenes your ev’ning-hours employ:

Converse with heav’n, and taste the promis’d

Niobe N3r 101

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

Apollo’s wrath to man the dreadful

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 Mæonia 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 N3v 102

He most distinguish’d by Dodonean Jove,


To approach the tables of the gods above:

Her granomittedsire Atlas, who with mighty pains

Th’ ethereal axis on his neck sustains:

Her other grand sire 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 N4r 103

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 Tiresias’s daughter came,

Divine Latona’s mandate to proclaim:


The Theban maids to hear the orders ran,

When thus Mæonia’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 N4v 104

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 laides 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 Cæus’ 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 transspires,


Tho’ Cadmus’ palace, not unknown to fame,

And Phrygian nations all revere my name.

“Where’er O1r 105

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

’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

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;

90 O “Phœbus! O1v 106

“Phœbus! 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 Phœbe join’d.—They wing their instant


Thebes trembled as th’ immortal pow’rs alight.

With clouds incompass’d glorious Phœbus

The feather’d vengeance quiv’ring in his hands.

Near O2r 107

Near Cadmus’ walls a plain extended lay,

Where Thebes’ young princes pass’d in sport the


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


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


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,

O2 So O2v 108

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 Phœbus’ hand

Smites through thy neck, and sinks thee on the

Two other brothers were as 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

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 O3r 109

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, are doom’d to fall,

The fates refuse that arrow to recal.

On O3v 110

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 surprize:

“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


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;

180 “If O4r 111

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

Tho’ I unhappy mourn these children slain,

Yet greater numbers to my lot remain.”

She ceas’d, the bow string twang’d with awful

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

200 Now O4v 112

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


Struck with the rest, and mingl’d 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.

“The P1r 113

The blood forsook her face: amidst the flood

Pour’d from her cheeks, quite fix’d her eye-balls

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.

This Verse to the End is the Work of another Hand.
P To P1v 114

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 blisful 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 P2r 115

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 landsscapes 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.

P2 To P2v 116

To His Honour the Lieutenant-Governor, on the
Death of his Lady. 1773-03-24March 24, 1773.

All-conquering Death! by thy resistless

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 Enoch. of old


Beyond the flood in sacred annals told,

And the great sage, Elijah. whom fiery courses drew

To heav’n’s bright portal 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,


He leads the virtuous to the realms of peace;

His P3r 117

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 Mis’ry’s eye.

Whene’er the adverse winds were known to blow,

When loss to loss Three amiable Daughters who died when just arrived to
Womens Estate.
ensu’d, and woe to woe,

Calm P3v 118

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 P4r 119

A Farewel to America. To Mrs. S. W.


Adieu, New-England’s smiling meads,

Adieu, the flow’ry plain:

I leave thine op’ning charms, O spring,

And tempt the roaring main.


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.


Celestial maid of rosy hue,

O let me feel thy reign!


I languish till thy face I view,

Thy vanish’d joys regain.

IV. Susannah P4v 120


Susannah mourns, nor can I bear

To see the crystal show’r,

Or mark the tender falling tear


At sad departure’s hour;


Not unregarding can I see

Her soul with grief opprest:

But let no sighs, no groans from me,

Steal from her pensive breast.



In vain the feather’d warblers sing,

In vain the garden blooms,

And on the bosom of the spring

Breathes out her sweet perfumes,


While for Britannia’s distant shore


We sweep the liquid plain,

And with astonish’d eyes explore

The wide-extended main.

VIII. Lo! Q1r 121


Lo! Health appears! celestial dame!

Complacent and serene,

With Hebe’s mantle o’er her Frame,


With soul-delighting mein.


To mark the vale where London lies

With misty vapours crown’d,

Which cloud Aurora’s thousand dyes,


And veil her charms around,


Why, Phœbus, moves thy car so slow?

So slow thy rising ray?

Give us the famous town to view,

Thou glorious king of day!



For thee, Britannia, I resign

New-England’s smiling fields;

To view again her charms divine,

What joy the prospect yields!

Q XII. But Q1v 122


But thou! Temptation hence away,


With all thy fatal train

Nor once seduce my soul away,

By thine enchanting strain.


Thrice happy they, whose heav’nly shield

Secures their souls from harms,


And fell Temptation on the field

Of all its pow’r disarms!

A Rebus, Q2r 123

A Rebus,

by I. B.


Abird 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;


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;


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.

Q2 An Q2v 124

An Answer to the Rebus, by the Author of these

The poet asks, and Phillis can’t refuse

To shew 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 Menelaus’ 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 must annual tribute pay

To Britain of immortal fame,

And add new glory to her name.



Q3r Q4v