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UTILE DULCI.

The New-York Weekly Magazine;

OR, MISCELLANEOUS REPOSITORY.

Vol. II.]WEDNESDAY, January 4, 1797.[No. 79.

THE NETTLE AND THE ROSE:

AN ESSAY.

Our bane and physic the same earth bestows,

And near the noisome nettle blooms the rose.

We may consider human life as a garden, in which Roses and Nettles are promiscuously scattered, and in which we as often feel the sting of the wounding Nettle, as we enjoy the fragrance of the blooming Rose. Those bowers of delight, entwined with the woodbine and jessamine, under whose friendly umbrage we seek shelter from the noon-day sun, sometimes are the abode of snakes, adders, and other venomous creatures, which wound us in those unguarded scenes of delight. As the year has its seasons, and winter and summer are constantly in pursuit of each other, so changeable likewise is the condition of mortals; and as the elements are frequently disturbed by storms, hurricanes, and tempests, so is the mind of man frequently ruffled and discomposed, till the sunshine of reason and philosophy bursts forth and dispels the gloom. Murmering brooks, purling streams, and sequestered groves, whatever the fictions of a poetical imagination may have advanced, are not always the seat of unmingled pleasure, nor the abode of uninterrupted happiness.

The hapless Florio pined away some months on the delightful banks of the Severn: he complained of the cruelty of the lovely Annabella, and told his fond tale to the waters of that impetuous stream, which hurried along regardless of his plaints. He gathered the lilies of the field: but the lilies were not so fair as his Annabella, nor the fragrance of the blushing rose so sweet as her breath; the lambs were not so innocent, nor the sound of the tabour on the green half so melodious as her voice. Time, however, has joined Florio and Annabella in the fetters of wedlock, and the plaints of the swain are now changed. The delusion of the enchantment is now vanished, and what he but lately considered as the only object worthy of his sublunary pursuit, he now contemplates with coolness, indifference, and disgust: enjoyment has metamorphosed the Rose into a Nettle.

Ernestus, contrary to his inclination, was compelled by his parents to marry the amiable Clara, whose sense, tenderness, and virtues, soon fixed the heart of the roving Ernestus; and what at first gave him pain and disgust, by degrees became familiar, pleasing, and delightful: the Nettle was here changed to the Rose.

The wandering libertine, who pursues the Rose thro’ the unlawful paths of love, who tramples under foot every tender plant that comes within his reach, and who roves from flower to flower, like the bee, only to rob it of its sweets, will at last lose his way, and, when benighted, be compelled to repose on the restless bed of wounding Nettles.