The Virginia Gazette

Description of MARCH.

When the Smiles and gentle Gales of Spring were expected to be ushered in, how comes it that Nature assumes suddenly a more stern Aspect! So it is often with the Approaches of Delight, some Bitterness comes to mingle with the Cup of Pleasure.

What Noise is this I hear to rise from astonished Forests, from the Shores of the Sea, and from hollow Vallies! What mean those dread Sounds, those long Bellowings, this tumultuous Confusion, this Shock of Elements! O immortal Nature! O Power fruitful in animated Beings! Tender, yet cruel Mother!

Should then the Favours thou hast promised to bestow upon us be anticipated by the Scourge of Calamities? The parching North East, blowing to us the noxious Exhalations of Hyperborean Climes, infects our vital Breath with painful Disease. The Swarms of Insects it becomes the rapid Vehicle of, from stagnant Pools and dreary Marshes, blasts the Hopes of our Orchards and Gardens with corrosive Poison. The Egg is laid on the tender Bud; its Gluten performs strong Adhesion, and anon it insinuates secure into its hospitious Lodge. Who knows but these Insect Eggs, hatched in our Bodies, sow the Seeds in us of grievous Maladies; endemic indeed, when Sameness of Symptoms appears, not in a few, nor in one Place, but many, and diffused through vast Extent of Country. Such was the Influenza!

March may not always pay us an ungrateful Visit of this Sort; but surely it will make Boreas to roar, or Eurus to whistle, either, or both conjointly, as fierce Harbingers of Snow, of Hail, of chilling Frosts, and piercing Cold. Or if it directs its Influence from milder Quarters of the Heavens, then will the combined impetuous Force of southern and western Blasts Seem to commit Ravages over our Heads. In an Atmosphere of Gloom the Tempest will burst forth, the Woods and Mountains will re-echo its Ravages.

Lo! the mighty Storm is hurled upon the Seas; Dismay seizes the Mariner; his fond Hopes of Gain vanish from his Eyes, and all may be lost to him, lost irrecoverably! Lo! how the Clouds, by Collision, are cleft asunder! Down they pour their humid Vapours; Fields disappear under unknown Seas; Torrents press upon new Torrents! Trees become the Sport of Winds, forced from their Roots, or despoiled of their ornamental Branches; Villages and Hamlets weep over their Ruins. What a frightful Face of Desolation does the rural Retreat assume! How widely spread does Disorder reign over all Beings! The World is threatened by the Return of Chaos; and the windy Element, the Conqueror of its Rivals, the Conqueror of the Sun's Effulgence, throughout Nature seems as if it wanted to extinguish both Life and Light. O terrible Hurricane, hush thy mad Rage! O Seas! O Town! O Country! O Nature! O Theatre of Horrours! What! is this World the Work of a beneficent and adorable Father, who cherishes his Children, and can this be their Lot?

Cease thy Murmuring, thou Son of Earth, and of mean Notions; thou canst not measure the Ways of Providence by the Scantiness of thy narrow Conceptions. Know, if this Providence be sometimes particularly extended to thee, in the Road of Reward and Punishment, it seldom is to the Government of the World, otherwise than by general and universal Laws. Mark, how the Waves of the Sea may rise: but so far shall they go, and no farther. This equinoctial Fury of the Skies is to purge and cleanse the Earth, to make it to thee a more agreeable Habitation. Those Storms, those loud Blasts, are to give thee a greater Relish for the florid Smiles of Spring, for ensuing Warmth, and for finer Days. All are in the eternal Order chained to each other, and all result from their Cause in their determinate Time. Go, be contented, and let not vain Curiosity prompt thee to pry into the Designs of the Omnipotent; or be assured, that "Whatever is, is right."

Remember, Man, "the Universal Cause
Acts not by partial, but by general Laws;"
And makes what Happiness we justly call
Subsist not in the Good of one, but all.
Still, if Plague, Earthquake, break not Heaven's Design,
Why then a Borgia, or a Catiline?
Who knows but he, whose Hand the Lightning forms,
Who heaves old Ocean, and who wings the Storms,
Pours fierce Ambition in Caesar's Mind,
Or turns young Ammon loose to scourge Mankind."

Pope's Essay on Man.