The New-York Weekly Magazine, or Miscellaneous Repository Part 51

NEW-YORK _Sept. 24, 1796_.

_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

SONNET.

Thou fading mount, whose variegated brow The rage of rude autumnal blasts betrays, How justly emblematical art thou Of life's dire changes, and its sad decays.

When on the pensive visage time pourtrays His stealing languor, and the sickning heart, Dead to the smiles of joy, and charms of art, To blooming hope, and pleasure's soft controul, No more with sweet emotion can impart A gleam of comfort to the chearless soul; Still holds the allusion when thy honours bow Beneath the early storm's despoiling rage, And sad affliction, life consuming woe, Forestals the influence of declining age.

MATILDA.

MONTREAL.

THE CAPTIVE'S COMPLAINT.

(_Inscribed to Anna._)

Hark, the chains rattle round as I turn on my side, And the pains of captivity now are my doom; My cell and my bed are scarcely as wide As yon willow-tree grave I discern through the gloom.

I was borne from my home, the frail child of despair, O'er the main I was driv'n, whose limits are wide; The winds and the waves all augmented my care, And the chains of injustice hung hard by my side.

The tyrant, stern grief, my little children attends, And tears from their eyes impatiently glide; They weep and they mourn without comforting friends, While I in despair shake the chains by my side.

The days and the nights too slow pa.s.s away, And death, though hard by, my pains won't decide; Oh! why will he pause and his purpose delay, For the chains rattle hard which cling to my side.

The morning may dawn when the Heav'ns more kind, May unfetter the pris'ner whose anguish is wide; Shake those chains far away, and give ease to a mind Grown callous by grief, and the chains of his side.

L. LE FEVRE.

PINE-STREET, _Sept. 23, 1796_.

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, October 5, 1796.+ [+No. 66.+

+On Singularity of Manners.+

There are few people of such mortified pretensions, as patiently to acquiesce under the total neglect of mankind; nay so ambitious are most men of distinction, that they chuse to be taken notice of, even far their absurdities, rather than to be entirely overlooked, and lost in obscurity, and, if they despair of exciting the attention of the world, by any brilliant or useful accomplishment, they will endeavour to regain it by some ridiculous peculiarity in their dress, their equipage or accoutrements.

But if we must distinguish ourselves from the rest of mankind, let it be by our intrinsic virtue, our temperance and sobriety, and a conscientious regard to every relative duty; but as we ought "to think with the wise, and talk with the vulgar," let us also act differently from a great part of the world in matters of importance, but conform to them in trifles. This is what Seneca so forcibly inculcates in his fifth epistle to his friend Lucilius.

"I both approve of your conduct, and sincerely rejoice that you resolutely exert yourself; and, laying aside every other pursuit, make it your whole study to improve yourself in wisdom and virtue. And I not only exhort, but earnestly intreat you to persevere in this course.

Give me leave however, to caution you not to imitate those pretended philosophers, who are more solicitous to attract the notice of the world, than to make a progress in wisdom; nor to affect any thing singular in your dress, or in your manner of life. Avoid that preposterous ambition of gaining applause, by your uncouth appearance, your hair uncombed, and your beard neglected; nor be always declaiming against the use of plate, of soft beds, or any thing of that kind. The very name of a philosopher is sufficiently invidious, though managed with the greatest modesty and discretion.

Suppose we have entered upon our stoical plan, and began to sequester ourselves from the conversation and customs of the vulgar; let every thing _within_ be dissimilar; but let our _outward_ appearance be conformable to the rest of the world. Let not our apparel be splendid or shewy, nor yet mean or sordid. Let not our plate be embossed with gold; but let us not imagine, that the mere want of such expensive plate is a sufficient proof of our frugality. Let us endeavour to live a better life, not merely a life contrary to that of the vulgar; otherwise, instead of conciliating the favour of those whom we wish to reform, we shall excite their aversion, and drive them from our company; we shall also deter them from imitating us in any thing, when they are afraid that they are to imitate us in every thing.

The first advantages which philosophy promises are, a just sense of the common rights of mankind, humanity, and a sociable disposition; from which advantages, singularity and dissimilar manners will entirely seclude us. Let us beware, lest those peculiarities by which we hope to excite the admiration, should expose us to the ridicule and aversion, of mankind.

Our object is to live according to nature; but to torture our bodies, to abhor cleanliness in our persons, when attended with no trouble, or affect a cynical filthiness in our food; this sure is living contrary to nature. As it is a mark of luxury to hunt after delicacies, to reject the common unexpensive comforts of life is a degree of madness. Our stoic philosophy requires us to be frugal, not to mortify ourselves; but there is such a thing as an elegant frugality. This moderation is what I would recommend."

SOCIETY.

Society has been aptly compared to a heap of embers, which, when separated, soon languish, darken, and expire; but, if placed together, glow with a ruddy and intense heat, a just emblem of the strength, the happiness, and the security, derived from the union of mankind. The savage, who never knew the blessings of combination, and he, who quits society from apathy or misanthropic spleen, are like the separated embers, dark, dead, and useless; they neither give nor receive any heat, neither love or are beloved.

Interesting History Of _THE BARON DE LOVZINSKI._

With a relation of the most remarkable occurrences in the life of the celebrated COUNT PULASKI, well known as the champion of American Liberty, and who bravely fell in its defence before Savannah, 1779.

_Interspersed with Anecdotes of the late unfortunate KING of POLAND, so recently dethroned._

(Continued from page 99.)

Encouraged in this manner, what dangers had I to fear? I departed accordingly, but in the course of that campaign, there happened nothing worthy of narration; the enemy, equally careful with ourselves to avoid any action which might produce an open war between the two nations, contented themselves with fatiguing us by means of frequent marches: we, on the other hand, bounded our views to following and observing them; and they only seemed to oppose themselves to us, in those parts where the open country afforded them an opportunity of making good their retreat.

At the end of the campaign, they prepared to retire on purpose to take up their winter-quarters in their own country; and our little army, composed almost wholly of gentlemen, separated soon after.

I returned to Warsaw full of joy and impatience; I thought that Love and Hymen were about to bestow Lodoiska on me.----Alas! I no longer had a father. I learned, on entering the capital, that Lovzinski died of an apoplexy on the night before my arrival. Thus I was deprived of even the sad consolation of receiving the last sighs of the most tender of parents; I could only offer up my sorrows at his tomb, which I bathed with my tears!

----"It is not," says Pulaski to me, who was but little moved with my profound sorrow; "it is not by means of barren tears that you can do honour to a father such as thine. Poland in him regrets a Citizen---- ----a hero, who would have been of immense service during the critical moment which now approaches. Worn out with a tedious malady, our monarch has not a fortnight to live, and on the choice of his successor depends the happiness or misery of our fellow-citizens.

"Of all the rights which the death of your father transmits to you, the most n.o.ble is undoubtedly that of a.s.sisting at the Diet, in which you are to represent him; it is there where he will revive in you; it is there, where you ought to exhibit a courage infinitely more difficult to be sustained than that which consists only in braving death in the field of battle!