The New-York Weekly Magazine, or Miscellaneous Repository Part 71

The SONNET by ANNA, is received, and shall appear in our next.

THEODORE's remarks on Mr. Townsend's note, we must be excused from publishing. Personal feuds can by no means be interesting to the public, and are ever totally inadmissible; we recommend to the parties, an amicable reconciliation which will a.s.suredly be productive of more satisfaction than sullen revenge can ever afford.

_METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS._ _From the 23d to the 29th ult._

_Thermometor observed at 6, A.M. 3, P.M._ _Prevailing winds._ _OBSERVATIONS on the WEATHER._

deg. deg. 6. 3. 6. 3.

100 100 Oct 23 52 50 70 s. w. do. clear, light wind do. lt. wd.

24 57 76 s. w. do. clear, calm do. high wd.

25 58 77 sw. nw. foggy light wind clear do.

26 56 58 25 e. se. cloudy lt. wd. do. do.

27 49 50 55 ne. n. clear do. high wind light wd.

28 37 47 n. sw. clear lt. wd. do. do.

29 44 50 58 sw. w. clear lht. wind cloudy do.

_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

EVENING.--EXTEMPORE.

The sun retires behind the western hills, And lengthening shadows shew the parting day; A hollow sound echoes from murm'ring rills, Which fall from distant rocks and glide away.

Now sol's faint beams scarce glisten o'er the glade, All nature's various beauties sink from sight; The verdant vales are wrapt in gloomy shade, And day retires before the mists of night.

Thus life's vain pleasures short delight impart: Those scenes, which once so brilliant did appear, Return no more to chear the pensive heart, And memory recalls them with a tear.

J. P.

NEW-YORK Oct. 29, 1796.

_For the +New-York Weekly Magazine+._

TO MISS A---- H----.

Though F----s muse may grief a.s.sume, And teach his plaintive soul to mourn; No wreath I make for Anna's tomb, Nor weep upon her chilly urn.

'Tis not for me to mourn as dead, The fair whom blooming I survey, Nor with a turf to grace her head, Nor change her limbs to mould'ring clay.

Let friendship's artless voice inspire My muse to sing in diff'rent strains: While as a friend I here admire Her more--than on the Etherial plains.

Far distant may the period be, When Anna's form shall lose its bloom; And F----s frantic verse we see Sadly inscribed upon her tomb.

ANNA.

The above address was occasioned by the following Epitaph, written by a Clergyman, and presented to the young lady whose tomb it was to adorn.

Reader, if thou are _good_, and _wise_, and _witty_, Drop on this sable hea.r.s.e some tears of pity; For know kind reader, that it is a duty To the remains of innocence and beauty.

+Epitaph on a Celebrated Coach-Maker.+

Once in the gilded chariot high, I sat in worldly state; Now in the darksome tomb I lie, The _chariot_ built by fate.

Yet in this _carriage_ form'd of dust I hope one day to gain The place where dwell the good and just; And endless pleasures reign.

This is the _chariot_ that must bring The GREAT and SMALL at last, Before their JUDGE and Heav'nly KING: When earthly joys are past.

ON A GOOD CONSCIENCE.

The solid joys of human kind, Are those that flow from peace of mind; For who the sweets of life can taste, With vice and tim'rous guilt opprest?

'Tis virtue softens all our toils, With peace our conscience crowns; Gives pleasure when our fortune smiles, And courage when it frowns; Calms every trouble, makes the soul serene, Smooths the contracted brow, and chears the heart within.

MATERNAL AFFECTION.

Now swiftly fled the shades of night, Before the sun's transparent light, Fresh with the glitt'ring dews of morn, More fragrant bloom'd the verdant thorn.

The tender DELIA waking, smil'd, And flew to clasp her lovely child; Asleep the angel infant lay, Fair as the glowing dawn of day.

A soothing lullaby she sung, And o'er the cradle fondly hung: What eye could view a fairer sight?-- How pure her innocent delight!

In happy wedlock early join'd, A mother, with a virgin mind, Just sev'nteen summers had she seen, And tall and graceful was her mien.

She paus'd a while, and strove to trace The father in her infant's face; 'How sweet,' she cried, 'a mothers bliss!

'And sweet, oh sweet, my cherub's kiss!

'Sleep on! my babe, securely rest!