"An HYMN to the MORNING"
By Phillis Wheatley

  • Transcription, correction, editorial commentary, and markup by Students of Marymount University, James West, Amy Ridderhof
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Sources

London : Printed for A. Bell, 1773Page images are sourced from two copies of the first edition housed in the Library of Congress.Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Humanities Text Initiative, 1999Online SGML text from the University of Michigan HTI. SGML markup edited to conform to LiC parameters, including changes to element and attribute case, ligatures, and other special html characters.

Editorial Statements

Research informing these annotations draws on publicly-accessible resources, with links provided where possible. Annotations have also included common knowledge, defined as information that can be found in multiple reliable sources. If you notice an error in these annotations, please contact lic.open.anthology@gmail.com.

Original spelling and capitalization is retained, though the long s has been silently modernized and ligatured forms are not encoded.

Hyphenation has not been retained, except where necessary for the sense of the word.

Page breaks have been retained. Catchwords, signatures, and running headers have not. Where pages break in the middle of a word, the complete word has been indicated prior to the page beginning.

Materials have been transcribed from and checked against first editions, where possible. See the Sources section.

56 An HYMN to the MORNING. 1ATTEND my lays, ye ever honour'd nine, 2Assist my labours, and my strains refine; 3In smoothest numbers pour the notes along, 4For bright Aurora now demands my song. 5Aurora hail, and all the thousands dies, 6Which deck thy progress through the vaulted skies: 7The morn awakes, and wide extends her rays, 8On ev'ry leaf the gentle zephyr plays; 9Harmonious lays the feather'd race resume, 10Dart the bright eye, and shake the painted plume. 11Ye shady groves, your verdant gloom display 12To shield your poet from the burning day: 13Calliope awake the sacred lyre, 14While thy fair sisters fan the pleasing fire: 57 15The bow'rs, the gales, the variegated skies 16In all their pleasures in my bosom rise. 17See in the east th' illustrious king of day! 18His rising radiance drives the shades away -- 19But Oh! I feel his fervid beams too strong, 20And scarce begun, concludes th' abortive song.

Footnotes