Yet ne"er shall time thy fond remembrance raze, Thy worth shall live in ev"ry virtuous breast; The spotless purity that mark"d thy days, A lasting epitaph hath there imprest.
Full oft at eve, while social circles meet, And cheat with various lore the pa.s.sing hour; With pensive eyes we mark thy vacant seat, And thy lost converse fruitlessly deplore.
Tho" thy instructive voice no more we hear, Thy blameless life shall not unuseful teach; Thy gentle virtues, in remembrance dear, Shall yet thro" many a day persuasive preach.
SONNET.--TO THE MOON.
Regent of night, thy presence must I love, When from between the lowering clouds array"d, In mild effulgence, o"er the silver cove Thou spread"st a dubious light, and chequer"d shade:
At such a time my visionary mind Thro" Fancy"s gla.s.s sees forms aerial rise; "Tis then the breathings of the pa.s.sing wind Seem to my listening ear Misfortune"s sighs;--
Nor only seem: for tho" at dead of night Labour recruits his strength in deepest sleep, And rosy Youth enjoys his slumbers light, Desponding Penury still wakes to weep.
Regent of night! thy softest influence shed; Ye rising storms, oh! spare her houseless head!
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 18, 1797.+ [+No. 81.+
HUMANITY.
Gentleness, which belongs to virtue, is to be carefully distinguished from the mean spirit of cowards, and the fawning a.s.sent of sycophants.--It renounces no just right from fear:---it gives up no important truth from flattery:--it is indeed not only consistent with a firm mind, but it necessarily requires a manly spirit and a fixed principle in order to give it any real value.
It stands opposed to harshness and severity--to pride and arrogance--to violence and oppression:--it is, properly, that part of the real virtue charity, which makes us unwilling to give pain to any of our brethren.----It corrects whatever is offensive in our manners, and, by a constant train of humane attentions, studies to alleviate the burden of common misery;--Its office is therefore extensive; it is continually in action, when we are engaged in intercourse with men.--It ought to form our address, to regulate our speech, and to diffuse itself over our whole behaviour.
That gentleness which is a characteristic of a good man, has, like every other virtue, its seat in the heart.----In that unaffected civility which springs from a gentle mind, there is a charm infinitely more powerful than in all the studied manners of the most finished courtier.
It is founded on a sense of what we owe to him who made us, and to the common nature of which we all share.--It arises from reflection on our own failings and wants, and from just views of the condition and duty of man.---It is native feeling heightened and improved by principle. It is the heart which easily resents; which feels for every thing that is human; and is backward and slow to inflict the least wound. It is affable in its address, and mild in its demeanour; ever ready to oblige, and be obliged by others; breathing habitual kindness towards friends, courtesy to strangers, long suffering to enemies.
It exercises authority with moderation;---administers reproof with tenderness; confers favours with care and modesty.---It is una.s.suming in opinion, and temperate in zeal.---It contends not eagerly about trifles; slow to contradict, and still slower to blame; but prompt to allay dissention and restore peace.---It neither intermeddles unnecessarily with the affairs, nor pries inquisitively into the secrets of others.---It delights above all things to alleviate distress; and, if it cannot dry up the falling tear, to soothe at least the grieving heart.
Where it has not the power of being useful, it is never burdensome.---It seeks to please rather than shine and dazzle, and conceals with care that superiority, either of talents or of rank, which are oppressive to those who are beneath it.---It is a great avenue to mutual enjoyment: amidst the strife of interfering interests, it tempers the violence of contention, and keeps alive the seeds of harmony.---It softens animosities, renews endearments, and renders the countenance of a man a refreshment to man.---It prepossesses and wins every heart.---It persuades when every other argument fails; often disarms the fierce, and melts the stubborn.
To the man of humanity the world is generally disposed to ascribe every other good quality; of its influence all in some degree partake, therefore all love it.
The man of this character rises in the world without struggle, and flourishes without envy; his misfortunes are universally lamented, and his failings are easily forgiven. The inward tranquility which it promotes is the first requisite of every pleasurable feeling. It is the calm and clear atmosphere, the serenity and sunshine of the mind.
Attacked by great injuries, the man of mild and gentle spirit will feel what human nature feels; and will defend and resent as his duty allows him: but to slight provocations he is happily superior. Inspired with n.o.ble sentiments, taught to regard, with an indulgent eye, the frailties of men, the omissions of the careless, the follies of the imprudent, and the levity of the fickle; he retreats into the calmness of his spirit, as into an undisturbed sanctuary, and quietly allows the usual current of life to hold its course.
FAITH, PIETY, AND ACTIVE VIRTUE.
Life pa.s.sed under the influence of such dispositions naturally leads to a happy end. It is not enough to say, faith and piety joined with active virtue const.i.tute the requisite preperation for heaven. They in truth begin the enjoyment of heaven. In every state of our existence they form the chief ingredients of felicity.
THE VICTIM OF MAGICAL DELUSION; _OR, INTERESTING MEMOIRS OF MIGUEL, DUKE DE CA*I*A._ Unfolding Many Curious Unknown Historical Facts.
_Translated from the German of Tsc.h.i.n.k._
(Continued from page 219.)
"What a triumph would it have proved to me, if I had succeeded in my attempt to subdue this man through my magical operations, and to catch in _one_ snare two persons of so great an importance to our cause. The idea of ensnaring the Count by means of miracles and ghosts, was indeed, a very bold one, but not so inconsiderate as it may appear at first sight. Antonio has spent the earlier years of his youth in a monastery at Rome. It was not unknown to me, that experience and meditation have enabled him afterwards to divest himself of the prejudices which there have been instilled in his mind; I was, however, at the same time, well aware that the impressions we receive in our juvenile days, are re-produced with vivacity on certain occasions. I also knew that his philosophy does not deny the existence of spirits, and the hope of futurity which he defended with enthusiasm, renders the human mind but too p.r.o.ne to give credit to the apparitions of spirits, if they have the appearance of reality. Even his propensity to speculation, his fondness of solitude, the interest he took in supersensitive objects, his melancholy temper, prompted me to expect that my artifices would find access to his heart; and if the heart is but interested for something, then the understanding too is generally _half_ gained. However, he who intends to gain it _entirely_, must take care not to expose his blind side to a keen-sighted and pert genius, and for that reason I was obliged to endeavour to carry the illusion to the highest degree of probability; I was under the necessity of attempting to make it impossible to Count Galvez to penetrate my delusions. This will convince your Grace that my plan, how bold soever it might have been, has not been formed without _probability of success_. However, when Count Clairval began to cultivate a more intimate connexion with Antonio, I was made sensible that my expectations have been too sanguine.
"He entreated me to give up a design that never could succeed. Prudence commanded me to follow his advice, though it mortified my ambition extremely. No other expedient was now left than to remove Count Galvez from his pupil, because I apprehended that he would ruin my design on Miguel. Your Grace knows how successfully this was executed.
"Perhaps you will ask, whether it would not have been possible to gain Count Galvez for our cause by some other means? I must reply in the negative. Miguel could indeed have been ensnared by other meant, but not more _expeditiously_; (and every thing depended upon dispatch) but his tutor never. The latter is attached to the King of Sp**n with unshaken loyalty, because he thinks it his _duty_ to be loyal; and a man of fifty years, of so firm and rooted principles, cannot be enticed from what he thinks to be his duty, before it ceases to be duty to him. But what power upon earth could absolve from _a duty such_ a man? Here supernatural powers must interfere and absolve him, beings from another world must appear as bails.
"I can scarcely think that the failure of this plan has originated from a fault of mine, for I have tried every means of exhibiting my miracles and ghosts in a shape of probability. Yet this has entangled me on the other side in a very disagreeable dilemma. Miguel, to whom his tutor has rendered suspected even my most consummate artifices, must be kept steady in the course he once has taken. I shall, perhaps, be necessitated to perform something quite extraordinary in order to fix the mind of this wavering young man who is constantly pressing forwards.
Thus I think to have given a satisfactory answer to the question why I have introduced so expensive, complicated and artificial machines.
"If your Grace should ask why I have kept my design on Miguel"s tutor so secret, then I must tell you, that I concealed it so carefully because I intended to surprise the confederates unexpectedly by my valuable acquisition, if I should have succeeded; and if not to spare myself the mortification of having it said that I had undertaken a task to which my powers were not equal. I hope your Grace will reward my frank and plain confession by burying it in eternal secrecy."
I returned the letter to the Duke, and a long silence ensued. He broke it first.
"My friend, you know my adventures with this Irishman, what do you think of him?"
"How can you ask that question after all the discoveries we have already made?"
"I wish to have it answered by you."
"I think," said I in a pathetic accent, "that Irishman must be a supernatural being."
"Ridicule me as long as you please--I cannot but confess that he is, nevertheless, incomprehensible to me."
"My dear Duke, I know what I am to think of the Irishman, but I scarcely know what to think of you."
"You disapprove of my connection with that man."
"Very much."