“An Answer to the Rebus, By The Author of These Poems” by Phillis Wheatley


Phyillis WheatleyThe 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.

“An Address to Miss Phillis Wheatley” by Jupiter Hammon


Jupiter Hammon

I.

O come you pious youth! adore

    The wisdom of thy God,
In bringing thee from distant shore,
    To learn His holy word.
                                                                  Eccles. xii.
II.
Though mightst been left behind
    Amidst a dark abode;
God’s tender mercy still combined,
    Thou hast the holy word.
                                                                  Psal. cxxv. 2, 3.

“To S. M. A Young African Painter, On Seeing His Works” by Phillis Wheatley


Phyllis WheatleyTO 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!

Continue reading “To S. M. A Young African Painter, On Seeing His Works” by Phillis Wheatley

“On Virtue” by Phillis Wheatley


Phyllis Wheatley

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

Continue reading “On Virtue” by Phillis Wheatley