On Virtue
O Thou bright jewel in my aim I
To comprehend thee. Thine own words
Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach.
I cease to wonder, and no more
Thine height t' explore, or fathom thy profound.
But,
O my soul, sink not into despair,
Virtue is near thee, and with gentle
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, or Goodness, say what I shall call thee,
To give me an higher appellation still,
Teach me a better strain, a nobler lay,
O thou, enthron'd with Cherubs in the realms of day.
Phillis Wheatley
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