Memoir and Poems of Phillis Wheatley/A Funeral Poem on the Death of C.E.

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A FUNERAL POEM,

On the death of C***** E*****, an infant of twelve months.

Through airy roads he wings his instant flight
To purer regions of celestial light;
Enlarged he sees unnumbered systems roll,
Beneath him sees the universal whole;
Planets on planets run their destined round,
And circling wonders fill the vast profound.
The etherial now, and now the empyreal skies
With growing splendors strike his wondering eyes:
The angels view him with delight unknown,
Press his soft hand, and seat him on the throne;
Then, smiling, thus: "To this divine abode,
"The seat of saints, of seraphs, and of God,
"Thrice welcome thou." The raptured babe replies:
"Thanks to my God, who snatched me to the skies,
"Ere vice triumphant had possessed my heart,
"Ere yet the tempter had beguiled my heart,
"Ere yet on sin's base actions I was bent,
"Ere yet I knew temptation's dire intent,
"Ere yet the lash for horrid crimes I felt,
"Ere vanity had led the way to guilt;
"But soon arrived at my celestial goal,
"Full glories rush on my expanding soul."
Joyful he spoke: exulting cherubs round
Clapt their glad wings; the heavenly vaults resound.

Say, parents, why this unavailing moan?
Why heave your pensive bosoms with the groan?
To Charles, the happy subject of my song,
A brighter world, and nobler strains belong.
Say, would you tear him from the realms above,
By thoughtless wishes and preposterous love?
Does his felicity increase your pain?
Or could you welcome to this world again
The heir of bliss? With a superior air
Methinks he answers with a smile severe,—
"Thrones and dominions cannot tempt me there."
But still you cry, "Can we the sigh forbear,
"And still, and still must we not pour the tear?
"Our only hope, more dear than vital breath,
"Twelve moons revolved, becomes the prey of death;
"Delightful infant, nightly visions give
"Thee to our arms, and we with joy receive;
"We fain would clasp the phantom to our breast,
"The phantom flies, and leaves the soul unblest."

To yon bright regions let your faith ascend;
Prepare to meet your dearest infant friend
In pleasures without measure, without end.