Page:Memoir and poems of Phillis Wheatley, a native African and a slave.djvu/133

Rh Ye subterraneous worlds attend

And bid your chorus flow.

Ye vast volcanoes yell,

Whence fiery cliffs are hurled;

And all ye liquid oceans swell

Beneath the solid world.

Ye cataracts combine,

Nor let the pæan cease—

The universal concert join,

Thou dismal precipice.

But halt my feeble tongue,

My weary muse delays:

But, oh my soul, still float along

Upon the flood of praise!

Oh, heartless dove! mount in the skies,

Spread thy soft wing upon the gale,

Or on thy sacred pinions rise, Nor brood with silence in the vale,

Breathe on the air thy plaintive note,

Which oft has filled the lonesome grove,