ON VIRTUE. by Phillis Wheatley

O Thou bright jewel in my aim I strive

To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare

Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach.

I cease to wonder, and no more attempt

Thine height t' explore, or fathom thy profound.

But, O my soul, sink not into despair,

Virtue is near thee, and with gentle hand

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.