The New-York Weekly Magazine, or Miscellaneous Repository Part 114

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A CHARM FOR ENNUI.

A MATRIMONIAL BALLAD.

Ye couples, who meet under Love's smiling star, Too gentle to skirmish, too soft e'er to jar; Though cover'd with roses from Joy's richest tree, Near the couch of Delight lurks the daemon _Ennui_.

Let the Muses gay lyre, like Ithuriel's bright spear, Keep this fiend, ye sweet brides, from approaching your ear; Since you know the squat toad's infernal _esprit_, Never listen, like Eve, to the devil _Ennui_.

Let no gloom of your hall, no shade of your bower, Make you think you behold this malevolent power: Like a child in the dark, what you fear you will see; Take courage, away flies the phantom _Ennui_.

O trust me, the powers both of person and mind, To defeat this sly foe full sufficient you'll find; Should your eyes fail to kill him, with keen repartee, You can sink the flat boat of th'invader _Ennui_.

If a cool _non-chalance_ o'er your _sposa_ should spread, (For vapours will rise e'en on Jupiter's head,) O ever believe it, from jealousy free, A thin pa.s.sing cloud, not the fog of _Ennui_.

Of tender complainings tho' Love be the theme, O beware, my sweet friends, 'tis a dangerous scheme; And tho' often 'tis tried, mark the _pauvre mari_ Thus by kindness inclos'd in the coop of _Ennui_.

Let Confidence, rising such meanness above, Drown the discord of doubt in the music of Love; Your _duette_ shall thus charm in the natural key, No sharps from vexation, no flats from _Ennui_.

But to you, happy husbands, in matters more nice, The Muse, though a maiden, now offers advice; O drink not too keenly your b.u.mper of glee, E'en extasy's cup has some dregs of _Ennui_.

Tho' Love for your lips fill with nectar his bowl, Tho' his warm bath of blessings inspirit your soul; O swim not too far on Rapture's high sea, Lest you sink unawares in the gulph of _Ennui_.

Impatient of law, Pa.s.sion oft will reply-- Against limitations I'll plead till I die!

But chief-justice Nature rejects the vain plea, And such culprits are doom'd to the gaol of _Ennui_.

When husband and wife are of honey too fond, They're like poison'd carp at the top of a pond; Together they gape o'er a cold dish of tea, Two muddy-sick fish in the net of _Ennui_.

Of indolence most, ye mild couples, beware, For the myrtles of Love often hide her soft snare; The fond doves in their net, from his pounce cannot flee, But the lark in the morn 'scapes the daemon _Ennui_.

Let cheerful good-humour, that sunshine of life, Which smiles in the maiden, illumine the wife; And mutual attention, in equal degree, Keep Hymen's bright chain from the rust of _Ennui_.

To the graces together, O fail not to bend, And both to the voice of the Muses attend; So Minerva, for you shall with Cupid agree, And preserve your chaste flame from the smoke of _Ennui_.

ELEGY.

Chill JANUARY waves his wither'd hand, With magic touch he rifles Nature's charms; He speaks and frowns--Earth hears the hoa.r.s.e command, And sinks obedient to his icy arms.

With paler l.u.s.tre now the distant sun, On every branch from fretted h.o.a.r frost gleams; Enchain'd and barr'd their former course to run, In icy bonds are held the chrystal streams.

Each fairest work of lib'ral Nature dies, Whene'er the proud imperious tempest bids; With clouds becapt, to prop the lowering skies, The snow-clad mountains lift their h.o.a.ry heads.

Their leafy honours shed, the naked trees, Stretch helpless forth their bare unshelter'd arms; Imploring Spring, on wings of tepid breeze, To wake once more to life their native charms.

Ah! ponder well, my soul, th' instructive scene-- Scarce four short months the circling year has run, Since blooming nature smil'd a chearful green, And infant flow'rets drank the early sun.

Thus childhood smiles serene---the spring of life One fleeting hour---and all its joys are past;--- Youth next, 'tween hope and fear eternal strife, Like Summer, sunshine now, and now with clouds o'ercast.

Next manhood comes---like Autum comes---is fled, And age like h.o.a.ry Winter, gloomy, grave, Now silvers o'er sage Wisdom's sacred head, And o'er his bosom spreads the blossoms of the grave.

Now comes the last most awful scene of all--- Life's glimmering landscape dim before the sight; Death's sable hand outspreads his sooty pall; We humble---breathe a prayer---then sink in night!

Prepare, thou fluttering soul, prepare for death--- With dauntless foot to tread the beaten road; And oh! when this frail clay resigns its fleeting breath, Exulting spring unfetter'd to thy G.o.d.

Ne'er dies the soul---the grave not ends its being; A ray divine will pierce the awful gloom; Eternal there shall smile a living Spring!

The soul eternal blossom in the tomb!

VERSES To a Young Lady, on the Death of a Companion.

When beats your heart with young desire, May love a mutual glow inspire; And when at Hymen's shrine you bow, May innocence smile on your vow; And Joy and Peace illume your way, As thro' life's varying scenes you stray: So may you never, never, know the tear, That now a lover pours o'er his Amelia's bier!

NEW-YORK: _+Printed by THOMAS BURLING, Jun. No. 115, Cherry-street+-- where +Subscriptions+ for this +Magazine+ (at 6s. per quarter) will be gratefully received--And at No. 33, +Oliver-Street+._

_UTILE DULCI._

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

+Vol. II.+] +Wednesday, January 25, 1797.+ [+No. 82.+

_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

ESSAYIST. No. II.

"To give reflection time, with lenient art, "Each fond delusion from her soul to steal."

MASON.