Henry Livingston, Jr.
Carrier Addresses




NEW-YEAR'S ADDRESS
of the CARRIER of the
WEEKLY MUSEUM,
to his
PATRONS.


THE onward rolling waves of Time,
    Destin'd the bark of life to bear,
Lift into view this morning's prime,
    The horizon of a new-born year.

Hail, genial Day! thy happy birth
    Inspires each social heart with glee,
For Friendship, and Good-cheer, and Mirth,
    And Bounty come along with thee.

Tho' Boreas, on his ice-built towers,
    His rough artillery fiercely wields,
With snow-cold shot and hail-stone showers,
    Raking th' affrighted groves and fields.

Yet in the midst of these alarms,
    Festivity a feat prepares,
Each social bosom owns her charms,
    And tastes of pleasures free from cares.

Friendship relumes each dwindling flame,
    While Discord's in oblivion drown'd,
And launch'd upon the vital stream,
    New transports course the heart around.

Fond Memory turns a grateful eye
    On many a former New-Year's Day,
When anxious Care forgot to sigh,
    And Penury was chas'd away.

When my respected patrons dear,
    Receiv'd their News-Boy's humble lay,
And, zealous to promote good cheer,
    Sent himr rejoicing on his way.

Oh! how the hope inspires my breast,
    As to your doors my course I steer!
To find still Sympathy your guest,
    And Bounty yet an inmate here.

My toils and services you know,
    As ev'ry week I trudge my way,
Through pelting rains and driving snow,
    The Paper at your door to lay.

Of men the various fates to view,
    Some gaining steps on Fame's proud porch;
Some sinking into Death's cold dew,
    Some plucking rays from Hymen's torch.

Sweet Peace thy olive bow'rs among,
    May FREEDOM's sons thy praise resound,
While Commerce winds her streams along,
    And Science rears her temples round.

And you, my Friends and Patrons dear!
    Whose handss the New-Year's boon supply,
May ev'ry blessing be your share,
    Without a sorrow or a sigh.

May conquering Health, your joys t'advance,
    Shade with her flag your prosp'rous town,
And ne'er may Pestilence advance,
    To tear her rosy colors down.

May Fortune never prove unkind;
    May all your dearest comforts last;
And may you ever, ever find
    Each year still happier than the last.



        
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