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+._

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[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.+

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_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

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_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 shore, 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 illustrious monarch of day resigns

our hemisphere to the sable goddess 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

assurance of happiness in a future state. Virtue will command respect

among men, adorn the wrinkles of age with dignity, and crown the hoary

head with respect. It will shine 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.

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