NEW YORK.
JOURNALS, LETTERS, &c.
| “How much, preventing God, how much I owe |
| To the defences thou hast round me set! |
| Example, Custom, Fear, Occasion slow, — |
| These scorned bondsmen were my parapet. |
| I dare not peep over this parapet, |
| To gauge with glance the roaring gulf below, |
| The depths of sin to which I had descended, |
| Had not these me against myself defended.” |
| “Di te, finor, chiesto non hai severa |
| Ragione a tè; di sus virtù non cade |
| Sozpetto in cor conscio a se stesso.” |
| Alfieri. |
| “He that lacks time to mourn, lacks time to mend; |
| Eternity mourns that, ’Tis an ill cure |
| For life’s worst ills, to have no time to feel them. |
| Where sorrow’s held intrusive, and turned out, |
| There wisdom will not enter, nor true power, |
| Nor aught that dignifies humanity.” |
| Taylor. |
