The New-York Weekly Magazine, or Miscellaneous Repository Part 150

(Continued.)

But if a storm must rattle thro' the strain, Then let your lines grow black with gath'ring rain; Thro' Jove's aerial hall loud thunders sound, And the big bolt rear thro' the dark profound: But shou'd the welkin brighten to the view, The sun breaks out and gilds the style anew: Colour your clouds with a vermillion dye, And let warm blushes streak the western sky; 'Till evening struts in sober suited grey, And draws her dappled curtains o'er the day.

Let Vesper then pursue the purple light, And lead the twinkling glories of the night; The moon must rise in silver o'er the shades, Stream thro' your pen, and glance along the meads; While Zephyr softly whispers in the lines, And pearly dew in bright description s.h.i.+nes; The little warblers to the trees repair, Sing in their sleep, and dream away their care; While closing flowrets nod their painted heads, And fold themselves to rest upon their rosy beds.

But if Aurora's fingers stain the lay, Let fancy waken with the rising day; Let Sol's fierce coursers whirl the fiery team, And from their nostrils blow a flood of flame: Be sultry noon in brighter yellow drest, And bend a rain-bow on her burning breast, Let the rich dyes in changing colours flow, And lose themselves in one poetic glow.

So the fair Indian crown its gloss a.s.sumes, Dispos'd in tufts of party-colour'd plumes; The transient tincture drinks the neighb'ring hue, As if from each th' alternate colours grew, Where ev'ry beauty's by a former made, And lends a l.u.s.tre to the following shade.

Thus may a simile bright come in with grace, And add new splendours to the show'ry piece; Paint the proud arch so lively to the sight, That ev'ry line reflects a wat'ry light.

LOVE, HONOUR, AND TRUTH.

If truth, my dear Laura, can merit regard, If love, faith and honour, deserve a reward; 'Tis thine to dispense--Oh! bestow it on me, Whose love, faith, and truth are directed to thee.

In strains more harmonious than Orpheus e'er sung, More soft than the sounds of Cecilia's sweet tongue, Ye zephyrs, this truth to my Laura convey, That my love, faith and honour, can never decay.

The lover, whose heart a fair face can engage, May by caprice grow fickle, or cool in old age; But founded in sense, my love, honour and truth, Shall bloom in old age, as they flourish in youth.

NEW-YORK: _+Printed by THOMAS BURLING, Jun. & Co. No. 115, Cherry-street.+-- +Subscriptions+ for this +Magazine+ (at 6s. per quarter) are taken in at the Printing-Office, and at the Circulating Library of Mr. J. FELLOWS, No. 60, +Wall-Street+._

[Transcriber's Note:

At this point there is a visible change in the front page of the Magazine. The typeface is different, and the new masthead omits the phrase "utile dulci".]

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

+Vol. II.+] +Wednesday, April 5, 1797.+ [+No. 92.+

_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

_EXTRACT from a LETTER to +Miss+ ****._

----Since we both fancy ourselves unhappy, permit me, in this place, to make a few serious reflections on the extreme mutableness and instability of all terrestrial felicity; and the long duration and permanency of misfortune and disappointment. Those halcyon days I oft remember, when I enjoyed the pleasure of your society. Then, indeed, I tasted for a moment, something like unmixed happiness: not a wave of sorrow rolled across my breast; nor was corroding care an inmate of my bosom. The loveliness of the season, in union with the serenity of the atmosphere, conspired to increase my tranquility, and to render every thing delightful. When we sailed gently down the harbour, the clear cerulean of the sky added a softer beauty to the adjacent landscapes, and rendered the prospect enchanting. When we strayed over the flowery fields, or penetrated the leafy grove, the flocks grazing the green herbage, the zephyrs rustling through the trees, and the birds warbling on the branches, exhibited a resemblance of the pristine happiness of ancient Eden. And when listlessly wandering on the rocky beach, the idle murmuring of the waves upon the sandy sh.o.r.e, the confused gabbling of the sea fowl, and the distant view of the "full spread vessel majestically advancing over the white capp'd billows," tended to sooth the sorrows of humanity, and lull the mind to quietude. The day ended, and still evening drew on. Then did nature appear in silent magnificence; while the silver rays of the full orbed moon shed a majesty on each surrounding object. The lofty summit of the cloud-topt mountain appeared in solemn grandeur; the dusky forest reflected a yellow radiance; and the rolling wonders of the skies glittered over our heads: while the awful stillness that reigned, interrupted only by the lonely strains of the whip-poor-will, served to exalt the soul, and distend the heart.

These were beatific seasons of bliss--golden moments indeed, while they lasted, but, alas! where are they fled? They have vanished like the fading glories of the west, when the ill.u.s.trious monarch of day resigns our hemisphere to the sable G.o.ddess of darkness. Or like the gay delusions of a morning dream, which only tantalize the mind with the prospect of unsubstantial happiness, and render the real evils of life more intolerable. A true, but melancholy picture of unhappy man. Joy, for a moment, expands his countenance with smiles; but it is suddenly overclouded with a gloom of sadness, and misery and woe become his inseparable companions. Youth and beauty just open into bloom; and then are succeeded by the solicitudes of manhood, and the dull unjoyous season of old age. Humiliating reflections are these to the sorrowing child of humanity: yet, where virtue has a residence in the heart, she quickly calms the throbbing breast, and allays the gathering storm of affliction. 'Tis virtue alone that can enable the soul to bear up cheerfully against the calamities of life, and give her a joyful a.s.surance of happiness in a future state. Virtue will command respect among men, adorn the wrinkles of age with dignity, and crown the h.o.a.ry head with respect. It will s.h.i.+ne forth in the evening of life, like the refulgent glories of a setting sun, and glow with increasing splendor in never-ending worlds.

This invaluable jewel, I admit not the least doubt, dear madam, but you possess; and it is the great object of my pursuit. Then let life's tempestuous ocean roar, and fortune inauspiciously frown upon us; we shall surely outride the stormy gale, and ere long make the blessed port of an happy immortality.

PROSPERITY.

A single disappointment is sufficient to embitter all the pleasures of worldly prosperity. Though it might be expected, one in possession of high power and station should disregard slight injuries. But prosperity debilitates instead of strengthening the mind.--Its common effect is, to create an extreme sensibility to the slightest wound.---It foments impatient desires; and raises expectations which no success can satisfy.---It fosters a false delicacy, which sickens in the midst of indulgence; by repeated gratification, it blunts the feelings of men to what is pleasing; and leaves them unhappily acute to whatever is uneasy.

THE VICTIM OF MAGICAL DELUSION; _OR, INTERESTING MEMOIRS OF MIGUEL, DUKE DE CA*I*A._ Unfolding Many Curious Unknown Historical Facts.

_Translated from the German of Tsc.h.i.n.k._

(Continued from page 307.)

Grief, horror, pity, hope, and despair a.s.sailed my heart alternately, after I had read this letter. I moistened it with burning tears. When this violent agitation of my mind began to abate so much that I could reflect again, I considered what could be done for the preservation of this hapless man, and regardless of my indisposition, hastened to the archbishop of Lis*on, who always had been very partial to the Duke, and was much respected by the Queen. I entreated this worthy prelate to intercede with the latter for my hapless friend. "Alas!" he replied, "I have attempted it already without success." "How, my Lord?" her reply was, "how can you intercede for a traitor who has meditated our destruction and the ruin of our kingdom. All that you can expect is, that I shall forget what you have asked."

This account of the archbishop rent my heart; however, I entertained still some hope that the King, whose generous disposition I knew, would not prove callous against my tears and prayers. I went without delay to the palace, and was admitted. I supplicated him on my knees, to grant his royal mercy to the unfortunate deluded young man, and exerted every power of eloquence to excite his pity. "Rise, Marquis," the King replied, "there is no occasion for your intercession; I have determined already to pardon the Duke and the rest of the conspirators; yet their fate does not depend on myself alone, but also from the decision of the Council of State." With that resolution I was dismissed.

The following day, the gaoler brought me a second letter from the Duke, which I shall transcribe literally:

"MY DEAREST FRIEND,

"I am allowed to converse with you once more. The 200 dobras have gained the gaoler, and the promise of a like sum has prompted him to engage to deliver this letter to you. I must inform you of an important incident, that happened last night, within the walls of my dungeon. The door of my prison was suddenly flung open, and _Hiermanfor_ entered. Although I have great reason to be angry with him, yet he appeared to me an angel of light, in comparison with Alumbrado. The sight of him roused my heart from its state of despondency; however, my former gloominess of mind soon returned, when after a long and solemn silence, he exclaimed: "must we meet again in _this_ place?"

"I could return no answer; the consciousness of my guilt lay heavy on my mind, and the looks of the Irishman confounded me. Without being affected by my perplexity, he resumed, after a short silence: "you was a n.o.ble, deserving young man when I left you, and now I find you a rebel."

I do not know whether it was the accent in which he p.r.o.nounced these words, or the truth they implied, that made my blood ferment on a sudden--in short, I exclaimed: "if you had fulfilled your promise as an honest man, I should then perhaps not have been in this situation." The Irishman seemed to be affected vehemently. "By heaven! my Lord!" he exclaimed, "it was no fault of mine, a journey, and business of great importance, prevented me from seeing you sooner. But I do not comprehend you sufficiently, will you be so kind as to explain the meaning of your words?"

"I will, as soon as you shall have given me an explanation of an incident which you have promised to clear up."

"What incident do you mean?" the Irishman said.

"The apparition of Antonio, at the church-yard. Was it a natural contrivance of your invention?"

"It was."

"Merciful G.o.d!"

"What is the matter with you?"

"Don't ask me, the explanation--the explanation--"