Page:Memoir and poems of Phillis Wheatley, a native African and a slave.djvu/116

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conquering Death? by thy resistless power,

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 e'er escaped thee but the saint of old,

Beyond the flood, in sacred annals told?

And the great sage, whom fiery coursers drew

To heaven's bright portals from Elisha's view;

Wondering he gazed at the refulgent car,

Then snatched the mantle floating on the air.

From Death, these only could exemption boast,

And without dying gained the immortal coast.

Not falling millions sate the tyrant's mind,

Nor can the victor's progress be confined.

But cease thy strife with Death; fond Nature cease:

He leads the virtuous to the realms of peace;

His to conduct to the immortal plains,

Where heaven's Supreme in bliss and glory reigns.

There sits, illustrious Sir, thy beauteous spouse;

A gem-blazed circle beaming on her brows.

Hailed with acclaim among the heavenly choirs,

Her soul new-kindling with seraphic fires,

To notes divine she tunes the vocal strings,

While heaven's high concave with the music rings.