Being Brought from Africa to America - The Best of Phillis Wheatley

Phillis Wheatley

• Publisher: Ragged Hand
• Year: 2020
• ISBN:
  9781528791021
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: American Poetry
• Index: Literature

Phillis Wheatley (c. 1753–1784) was an American freed slave and poet who wrote the first book of poetry by an African-American. Sold into a slavery in West Africa at the age of around seven, she was taken to North America where she served the Wheatley family of Boston. Phillis was tutored in reading and writing by Mary, the Wheatleys' 18-year-old daughter, and was reading Latin and Greek classics from the age of twelve. Encouraged by the progressive Wheatleys who recognised her incredible literary talent, she wrote "To the University of Cambridge" when she was 14 and by 20 had found patronage in the form of Selina Hastings, Countess of Huntingdon. Her works garnered acclaim in both England and the colonies and she became the first African American to make a living as a poet. This volume contains a collection of Wheatley's best poetry, including the titular poem "Being Brought from Africa to America". Contents include: "Phillis Wheatley", "Phillis Wheatley by Benjamin Brawley", "To Maecenas", "On Virtue", "To the University of Cambridge", "To the King's Most Excellent Majesty", "On Being Brought from Africa to America", "On the Death of the Rev. Dr. Sewell", "On the Death of the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield", etc. Ragged Hand is proudly publishing this brand new collection of classic poetry with a specially-commissioned biography of the author.

ISAIAH
LXIII 1 - 8

SAY, heav’nly muse, what king or mighty God,

That moves sublime from Idumea’s road?

In Bosrah’s dies, with martial glories join’d,

His purple vesture waves upon the wind.

Why thus enrob’d delights he to appear

In the dread image of the Pow’r of war?

Compres’d in wrath the swelling wine-press groan’d,

It bled, and pour’d the gushing purple round.

“Mine was the act,” th’ Almighty Saviour said,

And shook the dazzling glories of his head,

“When all forsook I trod the press alone,

“And conquer’d by omnipotence my own;

“For man’s release sustain’d the pond’rous load,

“For man the wrath of an immortal God:

“To execute th’ Eternal’s dread command

“My soul I sacrific’d with willing hand;

“Sinless I stood before the avenging frown,

“Atoning thus for vices not my own.”

His eye the ample field of battle round

Survey’d, but no created succours found;

His own omnipotence sustain’d the right,

His vengeance sunk the haughty foes in night;

Beneath his feet the prostrate troops were spread,

And round him lay the dying, and the dead.

Great God, what light’ning flashes from thine eyes?

What pow’r withstands if thou indignant rise?

Against thy Zion though her foes may rage,

And all their cunning, all their strength engage,

Yet she serenely on thy bosom lies,

Smiles at their arts, and all their force defies.

ON RECOLLECTION

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,...