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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=478665" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To The Right Honourable William, Earl Of Dartmouth, His Majesty's Principal Secretary Of The State For North-America,</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">HAIL, happy day, when, smiling like the morn,<br>Fair Freedom rose New-England to adorn:<br>The northern clime beneath her genial ray,<br>Dartmouth, congratulates thy blissful sway:<br>Elate with hope her race no longer mourns,<br>Each soul expands, each grateful bosom burns,<br>While in thine hand with pleasure we behold<br>The silken reins, and Freedom's charms unfold.<br>Long lost to realms beneath the northern skies<br>She shines supreme, while hated faction dies:<br>Soon as appear'd the Goddess long desir'd,<br>Sick at the view, she languish'd and expir'd;<br>Thus from the splendors of the morning light<br>The owl in sadness seeks the caves of night.<br> No more, America, in mournful strain<br>Of wrongs, and grievance unredress'd complain,<br>No longer shalt thou dread the iron chain,<br>Which wanton Tyranny with lawless hand<br>Had made, and with it meant t' enslave the land.<br> Should you, my lord, while you peruse my song,<br>Wonder from whence my love of Freedom sprung,<br>Whence flow these wishes for the common good,<br>By feeling hearts alone best understood,<br>I, young in life, by seeming cruel fate<br>Was snatch'd from Afric's fancy'd happy seat:<br>What pangs excruciating must molest,<br>What sorrows labour in my parent's breast?<br>Steel'd was that soul and by no misery mov'd<br>That from a father seiz'd his babe belov'd:<br>Such, such my case. And can I then but pray<br>Others may never feel tyrannic sway?<br> For favours past, great Sir, our thanks are due,<br>And thee we ask thy favours to renew,<br>Since in thy pow'r, as in thy will before,<br>To sooth the griefs, which thou did'st once deplore.<br>May heav'nly grace the sacred sanction give<br>To all thy works, and thou for ever live<br>Not only on the wings of fleeting Fame,<br>Though praise immortal crowns the patriot's name,<br>But to conduct to heav'ns refulgent fane,<br>May fiery coursers sweep th' ethereal plain,<br>And bear thee upwards to that blest abode,<br>Where, like the prophet, thou shalt find thy God.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Phillis+Wheatley">Phillis Wheatley</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=478665" data-title="To The Right Honourable William, Earl Of Dartmouth, His Majesty's Principal Secretary Of The State For North-America," data-description="HAIL, happy day, when, smiling like the morn,
Fair Freedom rose New-England to adorn:
The northern clime beneath her genial ray,
Dartmouth, congratulates thy blissful sway:
Elate with hope her race no longer mourns,
Each soul expands, each gratefu..."></div>
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