The New-York Weekly Magazine, or Miscellaneous Repository Part 12

O'er hallowed ground no daring footsteps tread, But sacred hold the mansions of the dead; Its shades prophan'd no ruin'd temple mourns, Nor ghosts bewail their violated urns.

Thus, while to praise my city numbers roll, And soft applauses sooth each raptured soul; How will my name to distant ages shine, And fame, though not unfashion'd truth, be mine, How will full bloom my opening honours crown, And give my deathless name to high renown.

MATILDA.

TO MATILDA.

Matilda, stop thy course of virtuous rage, And spare from satire this unthankful age.

The world, while fashion dictates moral law, While gold repairs where nature feels a flaw, While n.o.bler pa.s.sions sink as time decays, And love forgets its fears, and fame is praise, The world unmov'd, will hear thy eloquence, The diction flatter, but reject the sense.

R****.

New-York, 1779.

_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

ELEGY, Addressed to a Young Lady on Transcribing for Her a Poem on the Death of Two Unfortunate Lovers.

If o'er the lover's melancholy bier Unbidden sorrow from thine eyes should flow, Check not the tender sympathising tear, Nor blush to soften at another's woe.

Indulge the tender luxury of grief, Melt at those pangs which nipp'd their springing bloom, And (soon as flattering hope deny'd relief,) Consign'd them early victims to the tomb.

The heart insensible to woe like this, Demands no caution to secure its case, Alike depriv'd of every social bliss, No wit can warm it, and no beauty please.

Yet while the soft emotion is admir'd, Thro' which thy virtues with mild radiance shine, Forgive the pain thy danger has inspir'd.

The sigh----lest Emma's fate should e'er be thine!

Ah! let it teach thee--nor be too secure---- That love, tho' virtuous, may thy praise destroy, That death's dire dart may fix thy ruin sure, And blast for ever all thy hopes of joy.

While this reflection dwells upon thy mind, The wish truth dictates, sure thou wilt approve, Long may thy heart its bliss in freedom find, And dread the soft delusive pow'r of love.

ELEGIOGRAPHUS.

New-York, June 24, 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, July 27, 1796.+ [+No. 56.+

[[For sources, see the end of the e-text.]]

_+View+ of the STARRY HEAVENS._

The sky at night presents us a sight of wonders, which must raise the astonishment of every attentive observer of nature. But from whence comes it, that so few consider the firmament with attention? I am willing to believe, that in general it proceeds from ignorance; for it is impossible to be convinced of the greatness of the works of G.o.d, without feeling a rapture almost heavenly. O how I wish to make you share this divine pleasure! Raise your thoughts for this purpose towards the sky: It will be enough to name to you the immense bodies which are strewed in that s.p.a.ce, to fill you with astonishment at the greatness of the artificer. It is in the center of our system that the throne of the sun is established. The body is more than a million of times larger than the earth. It is one hundred millions of miles distant from it, and notwithstanding this prodigious distance, it has a most sensible effect upon our sphere. Round the sun move twenty-one globular bodies, seven of which are called planets, the other fourteen, moons or satellites; they are opake, and receive from the sun light, heat, and perhaps also their interior motion. Georgium Sidus, Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, the Earth, Venus, and Mercury, are the names of the seven princ.i.p.al planets. Of these seven, Mercury is nearest the sun, and for that reason is mostly invisible to the astronomer. As he is near nineteen times smaller than our earth, he contributes but little to adorn the sky. Venus follows him, and is sometimes called the morning, and sometimes the evening star. It is one of the brightest of the heavenly bodies, whether it precedes the sun-rise, or succeeds the setting sun. It is near as large again as our earth, and is about sixty-eight millions of miles distant from the sun. After Venus comes our earth, round which the moon moves, as a secondary planet. Mars, which is the fourth planet, is seven times smaller than our globe; and its distance from the sun is one hundred and forty-four millions of miles. Jupiter, with his belt, is always distinguished by his splendor in the starry sky: it seems in size to surpa.s.s all the fixed stars; it is almost as bright as Venus in all her glory, except that the light of it is less brilliant than the morning star. How small our earth is in comparison with Jupiter! There would not be less than eight thousand globes like ours, necessary to form one equal in size to that of Jupiter. Saturn, whose distance from the sun is upwards of nine hundred millions of miles, was thought the remotest planet until the late discovery of the Georgium Sidus, whose distance is eighteen thousand millions of miles, and its magnitude eighty-nine times greater than our earth. In the mean time, the sun, with all the planets which accompany it, is a very small part of the immense fabric of the universe. Each star, which from hence appears to us no larger than a brilliant set in a ring, is in reality an immense body which equals the sun both in size and splendor.

(_To be concluded in our next._)

+For the New-York Weekly Magazine.+

KNOWLEDGE.

The life of man is lengthened by his pursuits of knowledge, as that of a fool by his pa.s.sions. The time of the one is long, because he does not know how to spend it; but the other distinguishes every moment of it with useful and amusing thoughts; the one wishes it always elapsed, and the other enjoys it always.

How the view of past life, appears different to the man who is grown old in knowledge, from that who is grown old in ignorance; the latter is like the owner of a barren country, that sees nothing, but some hills and plains naked; the other beholds an agreeable landscape, and can scarce cast his eyes on a single spot of his land that is not covered with some beautiful plants.

CURIOUS ETYMOLOGY.

When the French first settled on the banks of St. Lawrence, they were stinted by the intendant, Monsieur Picard, to a can of spruce beer a day. The people thought this measure very scant, and every moment articulated, "Can-a-day!" It would be ungenerous in any reader to desire a more rational derivation of the word Canada.

THE FATAL EFFECTS OF INDULGING THE Pa.s.sIONS, Exemplified in the History of M. De La Paliniere.

_Translated from the French._

(Concluded from page 18.)

In the midst of these thoughts, there was one more afflicting than all the rest; I was arrived at that height of misery, that my greatest misfortune was not that of being for ever separated from Julia; no, I had another more insupportable. The most virtuous and innocent of women, the ornament and glory of her s.e.x, groaned beneath the opprobrious burthen of the world's contempt, and I alone was the cause of this cruel injustice; the remembrance of this distracted me, and made me almost insensible to the consolations of friendship. Yes, said I to Sinclair, I could suffer singly for my errors, and support my punishment perhaps with fort.i.tude. Time I know destroys pa.s.sion and regret, but it never can enfeeble the remorse of a feeling heart born to the practice of virtue. The day may come, when Julia will no longer live in my imagination with all those seductive charms I now continually behold; but she will ever remain there the innocent sacrifice of folly and distraction, and the remembrance of that will be the torment of my life.

In effect, neither the tender cares of Sinclair, nor the dissipation of a long voyage, could weaken my chagrin. When we returned to Paris, Sinclair was obliged to leave me and rejoin his regiment, and I departed, almost immediately, for Holland; where, six months after, Sinclair came to me. He suggested an idea of my undertaking some kind of commerce, and lent me money necessary to make a beginning.