Henry Livingston, Jr.
Carrier Addresses

Several of our subscribers in the country, particularly
some respectably Ladies, having intimated a desire
to see our Carrier's New-Year's Address, we have
concluded to give it under the Minstrel, and here it follows.

As round the changing seasons roll,
As suns approach, or leave the pole,
As Spring her flowery bosom bares,
As Autumn his sere vestment wears,
As Summer trips, all blithe and gay,
As Winter stalks, in grim array;
Still Age and Time steal silent on--
Behold, another year is gone!
Gone to the tomb of ages fled,
In millions numbering with the dead.

This world alas! what woes await!
How shifting are the scenes of Fate!
Let empires tell, now whelm'd in dust,
Which once frown'd o'er the world, august.
Imperial Latium! where art thou!
Where Athens, Phebes, and Carthage, now!
Palmyra, Tyre, Euphemia, where!--
Gone like the shadowy forms of air!
Thus shall proud London's towers decay;
Thus Paris fleet in smoke away:
Even now, in Dessolation's car,
Sits there enthron'd, vindictive War,
His red sword drawn, his standard rais'd,
And ne'er more fierce his firebrand blaz'd!
And here, in these more favor'd climes,
Where Peace her hand with Plenty joins,

Where equal laws and rights are known,
Nor curst with king nor crown nor throne,
Time's mouldering touch shall waste away
The noblest works the Arts display;
Where York's fair turrets beaming rise,
And Penn's gilt fanes pervade the skies,
The fox shall bark, the wolf shall howl,
The raven croak, and hoot the owl;
There, brambles, briars, and hem'ocks grow,
And serpents hiss the ests below;
While some dull pool's stench'd water laves
The surface of ten thousand graves!

"Hold! bold!" methinks I here you say,
"Is this your ode for New-Year's day?
"Will you with mournful dirges treat us?
"Must not with glooms be clouded o'er."
Your right -- for though this year was born
On sober Sunday's silent morn,
On Monday we our offerings pay,
Yourselves in your own chosen way,
While I present my magic token,
Your hearts to charm, your purses open,
For sure I am these words you'll utter--
"No New Year's song, no New Year's supper."

My friends you know the News boys care,
To drink your weekly bill of fare;
To bring you tidings new and old,
I've tug'd and toil'd thro' heat and cold;
For this I've trudged the streets by night,

And rose e'er morning beam'd its light.
For this on Fancy's wings, alert,
I rush to war with Bounaparte;
O in the direful contest, mix,
With Britian's king, great Georgius Rex,
Or soaring o'er hill, dale, and fountain,
Light on Missouri's briny mountain,
And thrice return with sample fair,
To Feds, who doubt a xx there;
While thick around the xx rise,
With slanderous darts and vengeful eyes;
But still to Freedom's cause sincere.
No darts we dread, no foes we fear;
O'er that great castle, till thine shall fail,
The gates of hell shall ne'er prevail.

But least I spin my verse too long,
I'll think of winding off my song,
First wishing all a joyful season,
The flow of soul -- the feast of Reason;
To lawyers learn'd -- returning fees,
Physicians -- kine-pock maladies,
To priests -- receipts for slumbering pews,
To politicians -- bloodless news.
To farmers -- death of Hessian fly,
To merchants -- gains, but not too high,
Mechanics -- work, and ready pay,
The ladies -- Stop! I'll change my lay.

Ladies fair, your hours improve,

Wrinkling Age advances;
Youth's the time for joy and love--
Gloomy Care ne'er dances.
Now the rose illumes your cheek,
Lovelier than the morning;
Lillies now your bosoms deck,
Brightest charms adorning.
Lambent lightnings paint your eyes,
Bleeding hearts transpiercing;
Splendors o'er your features rise,
Past your bard's rehearsing.
Time will soon those charms destroy,
Withering all your graces;
Seize the hours for love and joy,
E'er youth and beauty passes.

May bliss attend Columbia's clime,
And peaceful suns serenely shine;
So now, till New-Year comes again,
I'll make my bow, and say -- AMEN!


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