The New-York Weekly Magazine, or Miscellaneous Repository Part 34

How sad remembrance thrills my aching heart, As o'er these scenes so lov'd I fondly stray; Methinks each object bids me quick depart And ev'ry sighing gale thus seems to say:

"Retire, fond maid, nor here forever mourn, Forget thy woes, forget thy useless grief; Can ceaseless weeping cause the dead's return, Or sighs eternal give the heart relief."

I go, adieu! ye much lov'd shades, adieu!

From your wild beauties far tho' doom'd to stray, Still faithful memory shall your charms renew, And with the semblance cheer my lonely way.

CLARA.

PEARL-STREET, _August 23, 1796_.

[* There is a tradition among the Indians, that the cries of the whip-poor-will are ominous of coming evil.]

THE HAPPY MAN.

To Horatio.

Blest with the joys impa.s.sion'd fathers know, And all that heaven could in a wife bestow: A wife endear'd to that congenial breast.

In three sweet prattlers most supremely blest.

Blest with enjoyments that on wealth attend, And blest by heaven with many a social friend; In calm delight, whose ever-smiling rays, Spreads a sweet sun-s.h.i.+ne o'er thy happy days.

And blest to know, that high enroll'd in fame, Ages shall love and venerate the name.

To every friend thy memory dear shall be, And sweet the song be, when they sing of thee---- Oh! read this verse, where blessings all combine, And view thyself in each descriptive line.

ELIZA IN ANSWER TO * * * *.

And durst thou, then, insulting youth, demand A second spoil from love's impov'rish'd store?

Shall strains like thine a second kiss command, Thankless for one, because I gave no more?

One lamp eradiates all yon azure heav'n, One polar star directs the pilot's way; Yet what bold wretch complains no more are giv'n, Or doubts the blessing of each friendly ray?

One tim'rous kiss, which mult.i.tudes might bode, At once thy sun and guiding star had prov'd, If, while thy lips beneath its pressure glow'd, And thy tongue flatter'd--thou has truly lov'd.

The flame which burns upon the virgin's cheek, The rising sigh, half utter'd, half supprest, To him who fondly loves, will more than speak What wav'ring thoughts divide th' impa.s.sion'd breast.

Such soft confusion could the Moor disarm, And his rough heart, like Desdemona's, move; But soon her easy weakness broke the charm, And, ere her life she lost, she lost her love.

No--if I hate thee, wherefore should I press A treach'rous contract with love's fav'rite seal?

And, if I wish thy future hours to bless, Ah! why, too soon, that anxious care reveal?

A ready conquest oft' the victor scorns; His laurels fade whose foe ere battle yields; No shouts attend the warrior who returns To claim the palm of uncontested fields.

But banish lawless wishes from thy soul, While yet my hate or love is undeclar'd; Perhaps, ere many years in circles roll, Thoul't think Eliza but a poor reward.

For, oh! my kisses ne'er shall teem with art, My faithful bosom form but one design-- To study well the wife's, the mother's art, And learn to _keep_ thee, ere I _make_ thee _mine_.

EPITAPH.

Stop, stranger stop, let one sad tear bedew That sorrowing face, while this cold stone you view: Here death in icy arms confines that fair, Who once was lovely as the angels are; But think not strange--------ever to behold Transcendent worth on sculptur'd marble told; Ah no!--suffice it, if one mournful tear Shall mix with mine in tender sorrow here.

NEW-YORK: _+Printed by JOHN BULL, No. 115, Cherry-Street+, where every Kind of Printing work is executed with the utmost Accuracy and Dispatch.--+Subscriptions+ for this +Magazine+ (at 2s. per month) are taken in at the Printing-Office, and by E. MITCh.e.l.l, Bookseller, No. 9, Maiden-Lane._

_UTILE DULCI._

THE NEW-YORK WEEKLY MAGAZINE; or, Miscellaneous Repository.

+Vol. II.+] +Wednesday, September 7, 1796.+ [+No. 62.+

AN EVENING MEDITATION.

Now all is hushed, and nature seems to make a pause; the sun has withdrawn his radiance, yet the gloom from yonder western sky bespeaks him still at hand, promising to return with his reviving warmth, when nature is refreshed with darkness.

The moon borrows her light, and bestows it upon us; she arises in silent majesty, humbly waiting to reign when he resigns his throne. No chorus ushers in his reign, no rays p.r.o.nounce her approach; gently she steals on the world, and sits in silent majesty to view the good she does. She lights the wandering traveller, she warms the earth with gentle heat, she dazzles not the eye of the philosopher, but invites him to view and to admire.---How still is nature! not a breeze! each tree enjoys its shadow undisturbed, the unruffled rivers glide smoothly on reflecting nature's face; here thro' this road, by the side of this fair stream, let me steal gently, step by step, wrapped up in future thoughts.--A time will come when earth, and seas, and sun, and stars will be no more----what then will be my thoughts----Think, oh then now!--Think--that time is nothing to eternity, think,----all nature, sun, and earth, and man, and angels are nothing--to thy G.o.d.--Think, that thou art to thyself thy all; thyself once lost, nothing can give thee joy or pain from without, but all will be concentered in thy own misery: if happiness be thy lot, then wilt thou be capable of enjoying also the happiness of others, thus redoubling thy own.

Oh! my soul, behold yon spangled sky---count the number of the stars----No---thy counting fails, then think on that eternity which awaits thee in another world; think too now, how great is the goodness of G.o.d, to grace our little world with beauties to attract the eye and captivate the mind. Beauties by day to cheer, to enliven, to call forth thy active powers, to bustle with the busy, beauties and blessings inviting thee to see, to taste, to smell, to hear.---Beauties too, Oh see, by night, beauties transcendant and glorious; such as draw up the eye to yon vast concave, where the mind's eye follows in silent wonder, quickly pa.s.sing from star to star, till struck with the beauty of the whole, it feels "the hand that made it is divine."

Pa.s.sion, at this silent hour and awful scene, shrinks away unperceived, and every light idea flies off. The mind takes the reins, and the body seems for a while to partake of that spiritual nature it will have hereafter. Listen then, while reason is uninterrupted, to the silent councils of nature;---every shadow whispers, such are you! A breeze may blow you away---to-morrow you may be no more; tread then,---as now---with caution through the slippery paths of life; beware of the briars and thorns that lie athwart your way; mistake not shadow for substance. Brush away, as the dew on the ground, at every step, the little affairs that momentary rise to check your progress towards heaven.

This river too has its lesson to give, she is like the cool hour of reflection, when conscience gives back the actions of our life in legible characters. Oh may they be as smooth! See, says she, how fair is my face! how transparent I am! You see my depth; even the ground whence I spring is open to your view. Let your conscience be ever as smooth, as clear, as open; let your breast need no disguise, so will no troubled waters impede your heavenly voyage.

Now again behold the stars, they have a language; and with a powerful tongue, they call on me to adore the Great King of Heaven and Earth, whose name they write in golden characters legible to all mankind. They proclaim him, _Creator of all Worlds, and the Friend of Man_.

Let me, then, often read their book and listen to their tale.---Let me, like them, proclaim my maker's praise, by s.h.i.+ning in the orb in which his hand has placed me; nor ever leap the bound, nor strive to rise above, nor dare to sink beneath the sphere wherein I am. So when the sun, and stars, and earth shall be no more; my Creator shall raise me to another world, "to s.h.i.+ne like the stars for evermore."

[[Source:

Earliest source found, with same "gloom" for "gleam" error: The lady's magazine: entertaining companion, for the fair s.e.x, appropriated solely to their use and amus.e.m.e.nt (London, vol. X, September 1779, pg 482), signed "An Old Correspondent".

Notes: "The bold luminary of day has now withdrawn his radiance, yet the sinking crimson of yonder western sky...". This line was used in The Seasons of Life; With an Introduction on the Creation and Primeval State of Man, by Mary Ashdowne 1839 Quotation: "the hand that made it is divine". Joseph Addison, "the hand that made us..."]]