Page:Memoir and poems of Phillis Wheatley, a native African and a slave.djvu/92

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Muse! my groveling mind inspire,

And fill my bosom with celestial fire.

See from Jamaica's fervid shores 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 watery realm reclined,

Appeared, and thus invites the lingering 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: