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Phillis Wheatley - On Recollection
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Mneme begin.  Inspire, ye sacred nine,
Your vent`rous Afric in her great design.
Mneme, immortal pow`r, I trace thy spring:
Assist my strains, while I thy glories sing:
The acts of long departed years, by thee
Recover`d, in due order rang`d we see:
Thy pow`r the long-forgotten calls from night,
That sweetly plays before the fancy`s sight.
Mneme in our nocturnal visions pours
The ample treasure of her secret stores;
Swift from above the wings her silent flight
Through Phoebe`s realms, fair regent of the night;
And, in her pomp of images display`d,
To the high-raptur`d poet gives her aid,
Through the unbounded regions of the mind,
Diffusing light celestial and refin`d.
The heav`nly phantom paints the actions done
By ev`ry tribe beneath the rolling sun.
  Mneme, enthron`d within the human breast,
Has vice condemn`d, and ev`ry virtue blest.
How sweet the sound when we her plaudit hear?
Sweeter than music to the ravish`d ear,
Sweeter than Maro`s entertaining strains
Resounding through the groves, and hills, and plains.
But how is Mneme dreaded by the race,
Who scorn her warnings and despise her grace?
By her unveil`d each horrid crime appears,
Her awful hand a cup of wormwood bears.
Days, years mispent, O what a hell of woe!
Hers the worst tortures that our souls can know.
  Now eighteen years their destin`d course have run,
In fast succession round the central sun.
How did the follies of that period pass
Unnotic`d, but behold them writ in brass!
In Recollection see them fresh return,
And sure `tis mine to be asham`d, and mourn.
  O Virtue, smiling in immortal green,
Do thou exert thy pow`r, and change the scene;
Be thine employ to guide my future days,
And mine to pay the tribute of my praise.
  Of Recollection such the pow`r enthron`d
In ev`ry breast, and thus her pow`r is own`d.
The wretch, who dar`d the vengeance of the skies,
At last awakes in horror and surprise,
By her alarm`d, he sees impending fate,
He howls in anguish, and repents too late.
But O! what peace, what joys are hers t` impart
To ev`ry holy, ev`ry upright heart!
Thrice blest the man, who, in her sacred shrine,
Feels himself shelter`d from the wrath divine!
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