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 theeRecover'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 poursThe ample treasure of her secret stores;Swift from above the wings her silent flightThrough 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,Through the unbounded regions of the mind,Diffusing light celestial and refin'd.The heav'nly phantom paints the actions doneBy ev'ry tribe beneath the rolling sun.Mneme, enthron'd within the human breast,Has vice condemn'd, and ev'ry virtue blest.How sweet the sound when we her plaudit hear?Sweeter than music to the ravish'd ear,Sweeter than Maro's entertaining strainsResounding through the groves, and hills, and plains.But how is Mneme dreaded by the race,Who scorn her warnings and despise her grace?By her unveil'd each horrid crime appears,Her awful hand a cup of wormwood bears.Days, years mispent, O what a hell of woe!Hers the worst tortures that our souls can know.Now eighteen years their destin'd course have run,In fast succession round the central sun.How did the follies of that period passUnnotic'd, but behold them writ in brass!In Recollection see them fresh return,And sure 'tis mine to be asham'd, and mourn.O Virtue, smiling in immortal green,Do thou exert thy pow'r, and change the scene;Be thine employ to guide my future days,And mine to pay the tribute of my praise.Of Recollection such the pow'r enthron'dIn ev'ry breast, and thus her pow'r is own'd.The wretch, who dar'd the vengeance of the skies,At last awakes in horror and surprise,By her alarm'd, he sees impending fate,He howls in anguish, and repents too late.But O! what peace, what joys are hers t' impartTo ev'ry holy, ev'ry upright heart!Thrice blest the man, who, in her sacred shrine,Feels himself shelter'd from the wrath divine!
Words in this poem
- plaudit n.
- A mark or expression of applause; praise bestowed. [From L. plaudite do ye praise (which was said by players at the end of a performance), 2d pers. pl. imperative of plaudere. Cf. Plausible.]
- entertaining a.
- Affording entertainment; pleasing; amusing; diverting.
- despise v. t.
- To look down upon with disfavor or contempt; to contemn; to scorn; to disdain; to have a low opinion or contemptuous dislike of. [OF. despis-, in some forms of despire to despise, fr. L. despicere, despectum, to look down upon, despise; de- + spicere, specere, to look. See Spy, and cf. Des]
- horrid a.
- Rough; rugged; bristling. [L. horridus. See Horror, and cf. Ordure.]
- exert v. t.
- To thrust forth; to emit; to push out. [L. exertus, exsertus, p.p. of exerere, exserere, to thrust out; ex out + serere to join or bind together. See Series, and cf. Exsert.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
On Recollection is in the public domain. This text is taken from Poems on various subjects, religious and moral, Project Gutenberg ebook #409; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Phillis Wheatley, On Recollection, in Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral (1773), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #409, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/wheatley-poems/on-recollection.html, id L07712.
Form and metre
On Recollection is 50 lines in a single stanza. It is in rhyming couplets: heroic couplets. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 91%). 95% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.0 syllables. 16% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in heroic couplets, other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHIIJJKKLLMMNNOOPPQQRRSSTTUUVVWWXXYY nineA · designA · springB · singB · theeC · seeC · nightD · sightD · poursE · storesE · flightF · nightF · display'dG · aidG · mindH · refin'dH · doneI · sunI · breastJ · blestJ · hearK · earK · strainsL · plainsL · raceM · graceM · appearsN · bearsN · woeO · knowO · runP · sunP · passQ · brassQ · returnR · mournR · greenS · sceneS · daysT · praiseT · enthron'dU · own'dU · skiesV · surpriseV · fateW · lateW · impartX · heartX · shrineY · divineY
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| MNEME begin. Inspire, ye sacred nine, | 10 | ·˘/˘/·/˘˘· |
| Your vent'rous Afric in her great design. | 10 | ···/˘···˘/ |
| Mneme, immortal pow'r, I trace thy spring: | 9 | ·˘/˘····· |
| Assist my strains, while I thy glories sing: | 10 | ˘/·····/˘· |
| The acts of long departed years, by thee | 10 | ····˘/˘··· |
| Recover'd, in due order rang'd we see: | 10 | ˘/˘··/˘··· |
| Thy pow'r the long-forgotten calls from night, | 10 | ····˘/˘··· |
| That sweetly plays before the fancy's sight. | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| Mneme in our nocturnal visions pours | 10 | ··/˘˘/˘/˘· |
| The ample treasure of her secret stores; | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| Swift from above the wings her silent flight | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Through Phoebe's realms, fair regent of the night; | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| And, in her pomp of images display'd, | 10 | ·····/˘˘˘/ |
| To the high-raptur'd poet gives her aid, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Through the unbounded regions of the mind, | 10 | ··˘/˘/˘··· |
| Diffusing light celestial and refin'd. | 10 | ˘/˘·˘/˘·˘/ |
| The heav'nly phantom paints the actions done | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| By ev'ry tribe beneath the rolling sun. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Mneme, enthron'd within the human breast, | 9 | ······/˘· |
| Has vice condemn'd, and ev'ry virtue blest. | 10 | ··˘/···/˘· |
| How sweet the sound when we her plaudit hear? | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Sweeter than music to the ravish'd ear, | 10 | /˘·/˘····· |
| Sweeter than Maro's entertaining strains | 10 | /˘·/˘·˘/˘· |
| Resounding through the groves, and hills, and plains. | 10 | ˘/˘······· |
| But how is Mneme dreaded by the race, | 9 | ····/˘··· |
| Who scorn her warnings and despise her grace? | 10 | ···/˘·˘/·· |
| By her unveil'd each horrid crime appears, | 10 | ··˘/·/˘·˘/ |
| Her awful hand a cup of wormwood bears. | 10 | ·/˘····/·· |
| Days, years mispent, O what a hell of woe! | 10 | ·········· |
| Hers the worst tortures that our souls can know. | 10 | ···/˘·/··· |
| Now eighteen years their destin'd course have run, | 10 | ·//··/˘··· |
| In fast succession round the central sun. | 10 | ··˘/˘··/˘· |
| How did the follies of that period pass | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Unnotic'd, but behold them writ in brass! | 10 | ˘/˘·˘/···· |
| In Recollection see them fresh return, | 10 | ··˘/˘···˘/ |
| And sure 'tis mine to be asham'd, and mourn. | 10 | ······˘/·· |
| O Virtue, smiling in immortal green, | 10 | ·/˘/˘·˘/˘· |
| Do thou exert thy pow'r, and change the scene; | 10 | ··˘/······ |
| Be thine employ to guide my future days, | 10 | ··˘/···/˘· |
| And mine to pay the tribute of my praise. | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Of Recollection such the pow'r enthron'd | 10 | ··˘/˘····· |
| In ev'ry breast, and thus her pow'r is own'd. | 10 | ·········· |
| The wretch, who dar'd the vengeance of the skies, | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| At last awakes in horror and surprise, | 10 | ··˘/·/˘·˘/ |
| By her alarm'd, he sees impending fate, | 10 | ··˘/··˘/˘· |
| He howls in anguish, and repents too late. | 10 | ···/˘·˘/·· |
| But O! what peace, what joys are hers t' impart | 11 | ·········˘/ |
| To ev'ry holy, ev'ry upright heart! | 10 | ···/˘··/·· |
| Thrice blest the man, who, in her sacred shrine, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Feels himself shelter'd from the wrath divine! | 10 | ·˘//˘···˘/ |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.