Then let me pause—and think, alas! how soon
The hand of that same God may sweep me down;
Although with health I’m blest, but ere the noon,
Some pitying Bard may say—“his spirit’s gone!”
LUCIUS.
Pine-Street, Sept. 7, 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. MITCHELL, Bookseller, No. 9, Maiden-Lane.
UTILE DULCI. | ||
The New-York Weekly Magazine;OR, MISCELLANEOUS REPOSITORY. | ||
| Vol. II.] | WEDNESDAY, September 14, 1796. | [No. 63. |
A PEEP INTO THE DEN OF IDLENESS.
Yonder! under those ragged rocks, where the baleful yews waving their sable branches of mournful cypress throws an awful gloom; a den dark and ghastly opens its horrid mouth! ’Tis there idleness is lodged, the great thief of time, and destroyer of innocence and human felicity.