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<h2> TO S. M. A YOUNG AFRICAN PAINTER, ON SEEING HIS WORKS. </h2>
<h2> By Phillis Wheatley </h2>
<p>
TO show the lab’ring bosom’s deep intent,<br/>
And thought in living characters to paint,<br/>
When first thy pencil did those beauties give,<br/>
And breathing figures learnt from thee to live,<br/>
How did those prospects give my soul delight,<br/>
A new creation rushing on my sight?<br/>
Still, wond’rous youth! each noble path pursue,<br/>
On deathless glories fix thine ardent view:<br/>
Still may the painter’s and the poet’s fire<br/>
To aid thy pencil, and thy verse conspire!<br/>
And may the charms of each seraphic theme<br/>
Conduct thy footsteps to immortal fame!<br/>
High to the blissful wonders of the skies<br/>
Elate thy soul, and raise thy wishful eyes.<br/>
Thrice happy, when exalted to survey<br/>
That splendid city, crown’d with endless day,<br/>
Whose twice six gates on radiant hinges ring:<br/>
Celestial Salem blooms in endless spring.<br/>
Calm and serene thy moments glide along,<br/>
And may the muse inspire each future song!<br/>
Still, with the sweets of contemplation bless’d,<br/>
May peace with balmy wings your soul invest!<br/>
But when these shades of time are chas’d away,<br/>
And darkness ends in everlasting day,<br/>
On what seraphic pinions shall we move,<br/>
And view the landscapes in the realms above?<br/>
There shall thy tongue in heav’nly murmurs flow,<br/>
And there my muse with heav’nly transport glow:<br/>
No more to tell of Damon’s tender sighs,<br/>
Or rising radiance of Aurora’s eyes,<br/>
For nobler themes demand a nobler strain,<br/>
And purer language on th’ ethereal plain.<br/>
Cease, gentle muse! the solemn gloom of night<br/>
Now seals the fair creation from my sight.<br/></p>
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