The New-York Weekly Magazine, or Miscellaneous Repository Part 30

THE SETTING SUN.

(_Written at the request of a young Lady._)

Behold yon brilliant orb, whose matchless light O'er heaven's capacious arch its rays diffuse; Atchiev'd his constant round, he shews less bright, And half his splendor's wrapt in western dews.

The lightly pa.s.sing clouds, with gold array'd, Steal from their august Monarch as he dies; And ting'd with brightest hues they fly pourtray'd; And give a glow to circ.u.mambient skies.

The Night too soon her darksome curtain drops, And, deep with mourning look, drives day away; But lo! the radiant moon with l.u.s.tre stops, And adds new glory, though she shines less gay.

In such a scene as this we learn, that man, Although he dies and moulders in the tomb, His fame and virtues shall complete the plan; And while he sleeps in death his name shall bloom.

The seeds of well spent days shall rise apace, And like the moon of night on growth will shine, Although his body is despoil'd of grace, And mix'd with ashes, as was Heav'n's design.

LUCIUS.

Pine-Street, _Aug. 19, 1796_.

LINES ON THE CELEBRATED SHAKESPEARE.

On a biforked hill, with Fame's ever-green crown'd, Encircled with azure serene, Whilst the Sylphs of his fancy play'd wantonly round, w.i.l.l.y Shakespeare enliven'd the scene.

As all pensive he sat, keen-ey'd Wisdom drew near, Just sent from the regions above; And smiling she whisper'd this truth in his ear, Thy lays breathe the spirit of Jove.

To his side came the Muse of the bowl and the blade, To hail him great Prince of her art; Whilst Comedy near, all those dimples display'd That gave a brisk pulse to the heart.

Bright Genius approach'd him with pleasing respect, In her arms a young eagle she bore, To shew, if unshackl'd by icy neglect, To what wonderful heights she could soar.

Rec.u.mbent before him, straight dropt the sweet maid, And expanding the wings of her bird "Take the Quill of Sublimity, Shakespeare," she said, "And go fashion the tear-starting word."

To Genius he bow'd, as she pluckt forth the Quill, To the breeze were his vestments unfurl'd, Like a sun-beam, with Fancy he fled from the hill, To charm and illumine the world.

For the good of mankind, he rare precepts convey'd, And his strains had such pow'r o'er the ear, That, whenever he pleas'd, from the concourse that stray'd, He could call forth a smile or a tear.

Old Time knew his worth, with the sigh of esteem, From the earth bid sweet w.i.l.l.y arise; With his genius he fled, but has left us his theme, Which shall ever be dear to the wise.

TO ELIZA.

I ask'd a kiss, and scarce those lips comply'd, For instant fled the momentary joy;-- Would thou hadst still the fatal bliss deny'd, And then, as now, been more severely coy!

Can one slight show'r refresh the thirsty field?

One single plant with verdure clothe the plain?-- One star to yon wide arch its radiance yield?-- Or one small rill supply the boundless main?

The skies, unnumber'd, all their bounties pour;-- In such profusion are their blessings given, Ev'n thankless man must own the wond'rous store Becomes the rich munificence of heaven.

While you one kiss, and one alone, resign'd, Though fav'ring night enwrapp'd th'unconscious grove, Though well you knew not crowded millions join'd Could sate th' unrival'd avarice of love.

Yet, once again the dang'rous gift renew; With kinder looks prolong the fleeting bliss!

Let me too try, while all thy charms I view, Like Shakespeare's Moor, _to die upon a kiss_.

Yet no such kiss as some cold sister grants, And colder brother carelessly receives;-- Be mine the kiss for which the lover pants, And the dear soft, consenting mistress gives!

'Tis else as well with ardent vows to press Th' unyielding bosom of the sculptur'd fair, Or court the walls whose pictur'd forms confess That _West_ or graceful _Reynolds_ has been there.

In thy sweet kiss, oh! blend such fond desires As conquer youth, and palsied age can warm; Those arts which cherish love, like vestal fires, And bid, in virtue's cause, our pa.s.sions arm.

Such if thou giv'st--though closing air and sea Efface the arrow's path, and vessel's road, More faithful to their trust my lips shall be, And bear th'impression to their last abode.

ON VICISSITUDE.

In life what various scenes appear; How differs every day, We _now_, the face of comfort wear, To-morrow of dismay.

As light and darkness each success, So pleasure follows pain; Our spirits, drooping while we bleed, They brisker flow again.

Winter and summer have their turns, Each vale its rising hills: One hour the raging fever burnt, The next an ague chills.

A mind at ease and free from care, Can paradise excel: But when in trouble and despair, A palace then is h.e.l.l.

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, August 31, 1796.+ [+No. 61.+

+Rules for judging the beauties of painting, music, and poetry; founded on a new examination of the word thought, as applied to the fine arts.+

Thoughts are, generally speaking, all ideas sufficiently distinct to be conveyed by signs. When speaking with a particular reference to the belles lettres and polite arts, we mean, by thoughts, the ideas which the artist attempts to raise by his performance, in contradistinction to the manner in which they are raised or expressed.