Just this little, and no more,
Is in ev’ry mortal’s pow’r,
Each to say, I tasted breath,
But the cup was fraught with death;
I have sigh’d, have laugh’d, have wept,
Wak’d to think, and thinking slept;
Slept my wearied limbs to rest,
Wak’d with labour in my breast;
Met with sorrows, happ’ly o’er,
Mix’d in pleasures now no more;
Hop’d and fear’d, with equal sense,
Dup’d by many a slight pretence:
Soon shall my soul her veil throw by,
My body with its kindred lie;
Of this I’m certain, but the rest
Is lock’d within a higher breast.
* * * * *
EPIGRAM.
On Seeing the Servant of a Scoundrel Beat his Master’s Coat.
Why merciless thwack PETER’s coat?
My friend you surely jest!
I’d rather beat the Losel’s back,
And let his vestment rest.
The Castigator look’d and smil’d;
Said he, “You’ve wrong premis’d;
“For ’tis the _habits_ of the man
“That make the man despis’d.
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. MITCHELL, Bookseller, No. 9,
Maiden-Lane._
* * * * *
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_UTILE DULCI._
THE NEW-YORK WEEKLY MAGAZINE;
or, Miscellaneous Repository.
+Vol. II.+] +Wednesday, October 12, 1796.+ [+No. 67.+
_HYMNS_
Of the native Peruvians, used at the solemn worship of the Sun,
which they adore as chief of their Gods. Extracted from the INCAS,
by Marmontel, a beautiful work, combining all the elegancies of
language, the embellishments of fancy, and the charms of historical
narration. It it intended for publication in 2 vols. by the Editor.