Sunday morning—[3rd February 1788]
I have just been before the throne of my God, Clarinda; according to
my association of ideas, my sentiments of love and friendship, I next
devote myself to you.—Yesternight I was happy: happiness “that the
world cannot give.”—I kindle at the recollection; but it is a flame
where Innocence looks smiling on, and Honor stands by, a sacred
guard—Your heart, your fondest wishes, your dearest thoughts,
these are yours to bestow: your Person is unapproachable, by the
laws of your country; and he loves not as I do, who would make you
miserable.—
You are an Angel, Clarinda; you are surely no mortal that “the earth
owns.”--To kiss your hand, to live on your smile, is to me far more
exquisite bliss than the dearest favours that the fairest of the Sex,
yourself excepted, can bestow,—
Sunday even:
You are the constant companion of my thoughts—How wretched is
the condition of one who is haunted with conscious guilt, and
trembling under the idea of dreaded Vengeance! And what a placid
calm what a charming secret enjoyment it gives to bosom—the kind
feelings of friendship, and the fond throes of love! Out upon the
tempest of Anger, the acrimonious gall of fretful Impatience, the
sullen frost of lowring Resentment, or the corroding poison of
withered Envy! They eat up the immortal part of Man! If they spent
their fury only on the unfortunate objects of them, it would be
something in their favor; but these miserable passions, like traitor
Iscariot, betray their lord and master.—
Thou Almighty Author of peace and goodness and love! Do thou
give me the social heart that kindly tastes of every man’s cup It is a
draught of joy—warm and open my heart to share it with cordial,
unenvying rejoicing! Is it the bitter potion of sorrow—melt my heart
with sincerely sympathetic woe!—Above all, do Thou give me the
manly mind that resolutely exemplifies in life and manners those
sentiments which I would wish to be thought to possess! The friend
of my soul—there may I never deviate from the firmest fidelity, and
most active kindness! Clarinda, the dear object of my fondest love;
there, may the most sacred, inviolate Honor, the most faithful,
kindling Constancy ever watch and animate my every thought and
imagination! —
Did you ever meet with the following lines—spoken of Religion,
your darling topic—
‘Tis this, my friend, that streaks our morning bright:
‘Tis this that gilds the horror of our night!
“When wealth forsakes us, and when friends are few;
“When friends are faithless, or when foes pursue;
‘Tis this that wards the blow or stills the smart,
“Disarms affliction, or repels its dart:
“Within the breast bids purest rapture rise,
“Bids smiling Conscience spread her cloudless skies.”—
I met with these verses very early in life, and was so delighted with
them that I have them by me, copied at school.—
Good night, and sound rest, my dearest Clarinda!
Sylvander
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