ANACREON, ODE 1.

FAIN would I sing Atreides' fame,

And swell my lyre with Cadmus' name,
But all my efforts fruitless prove,

My lyre responds alone to love.

I chang'd, indignant, every string,
Essay'd Herculean toils to sing,
But ah! in vain, in vain I strove,
My wanton lyre return'd but love.
Farewel, ye heroes, kings adieu,
My harp no more I tune to you,
'Tis only love its chords approve,
It yields a sound alone to love.

Z.

TO MRS. CALHOUN,* CHARLESTON, S. C.
"I was a stranger, and ye took me in ; sick, and ye visited me.",
A STRANGER sings, and should his humble strain,
Breath'd from the heart, thy notice ever meet,
Kind friend of strangers, lady, wilt thou deign
The little off'ring with a smile to greet.

I know thee not; yet what is form or face?
I know thy Christian mind, thy generous heart;
Sure they must fashion all thy form to grace,
And all their meaning to thy face impart.

For say, what mantling bloom so lovely seems,
As the warm glow, to sympathy that's true;
Or where's the eye, that half so brightly beams,
As that suffus'd with pity's melting dew?

* Mr. Bird on leaving the university at Cambridge, in 1809, found himself attacked with the most alarming symptoms of consumption. His physicians recommended an immediate removal to a warmer climate. He arrived at Charleston, S. C. 24th December, enfeebled by disease, a stranger in a land of strangers. Mrs. C. a widowed lady of fortune, hearing of his situation, called at his lodgings, and with the most generous earnestness invited him to her house at St. John's, twenty four miles distant from the city. He accepted her disinterested proposal, and with her he continued till his death. Mrs. C. displayed towards him all the tenderness of a mother, and the assiduity of a nurse. With her own hands she administered all those little comforts, and performed all those kind offices, that do so much to soften the pillow of disease. To mention a single instance of her uncommon kindness will be sufficient. She was called, by business of great importance, to an estate at a considerable distance. Her original design was to take Mr. Bird with her, but finding him too feeble for such a journey, she procured from Charleston a nurse who should pay him every attention during her absence, when observ ing in the countenance of her charge the pain occasioned by the idea of her departure, she immediately relinquished her intention, sent back the nurse, and watched him with the most benevolent solicitude, till on the 21st day of April, in the 25th year of his age, he expired in her arms. He was worthy of this kindness, and frequent expressions in his letters proved how gratefully he felt it.

I know thee then, and fancy loves to view,

When told a stranger languish'd far from home,
The kind solicitude with which you flew

To seek and bear him to your friendly dome.

Far, far from all affection holds most dear,

Thou found'st no mother watching by his side,
No tender sister wip'd away the tear;

But soon thy care the place of both supplied.

Oh I can see thee with an angel's smile,
Try ev'ry tender, ev'ry soothing art,
The listless hours of sickness to beguile,
And tranquillize the agitated heart.

If o'er his cheek sometimes the tear would steal,
At sudden thought of hopes for ever fled;
Thy pity shar'd the grief it could not heal,

Thy tears too, mingling with his own, were shed.

Hopes ah how bright!* One little summer gone,
Health roll'd his pulse, and sparkled in his eye;
His opening views with ev'ry promise shone,
Could flatter pride, or swell ambition high.

But ah how chang'd! Where were those prospects now,
Where those fond scenes, that youthful fancy wove?
'Twas thy kind care still fairer scenes to show,
And point his hopes to higher joys above.

There are, whose cruel, selfish sympathy
The dying wretch a useful pang would save,
Would lull the sorrows they're compell'd to see,
And let him sink deluded to the grave.

Friendship more true thy pious mind possess'd;

With heav'n thy prayers, with him thy converse strove,

That grace divine might soften all his breast,

And melt his heart with a Redeemer's love.

And not in vain; for mild, celestial peace

Came like a cherub, and with soothing skill

* Very few have left the university with fairer prospects than Mr. Bird. He deserved and he received the highest honours it could confer. He possessed uncommon vigour of constitution, and energy of mind. Perhaps one of the most characteristick features of his understand. ing was a resolute perseverance in every thing he undertook. Whatever literary subject was presented to him, he pursued it with the ardour of his soul, he wrestled with it till it blessed him with all its force of meaning and truth. In his person he was interesting and imprèssive, and seemed peculiarly to possess all those qualities which might fit him for distinction in life. But those exertions and that diligence, which appeared to surmount every obstacle, were insensibly undermining his health. Alas! we saw this tree which seemed striking its roots so deep, and budding with such luxuriance of promise, suddenly blasted and fall.

Bade all the tumult of his soul to cease,
And bow submissive to a sovereign will.

Faith led him gently downward to the tomb,
While fix'd on heav'n his meek, yet steady eye,
Pierc'd the thick shade, that deepen'd round its gloom,
And caught a gleam of glory from on high.

"I've found a Saviour," he exulting said,

"I've found a Saviour,* nothing more I seek ;"
Then from thine arms his parting spirit fled,
And left a smile of transport on his cheek.

Lady, may he, the humble prayer who hears,
Grant that a friend, all like thyself, be thine,
To smooth thy passage to the vale of years,
And prop the feebleness of life's decline.

And at the last, while round the pious weep,
Without one struggle, one convulsive sigh,
All gently sinking as in infant sleep,

Breathe out thy soul, and soar to worlds on high.

C.

*"I have found a Saviour, what need I more?" said he in his last letter to a friend.

THE

BOSTON REVIEW,

FOR

JULY, 1810.

Librum tuum legi, et quam diligentissime potui annotavi quae commutanda, quae eximenda arbitrarer. Nam ego dicere verum assuevi. Neque ulli patientius reprehenduntur, quam qui maxime laudari merentur.

Plin.

ARTICLE 1.

An Essay on the Climate of the United States: or, an inquiry into the causes of the difference in climate between the eastern side of the continent of North America and Europe. With practical Remarks on the Influence of Climate and Agriculture, and particularly the cultivation of the Vine. Rerum cognoscere causas.-Virg. Philadelphia, Fry and Kammerer, Printers. 8vo. pp.42. 1809.

THIS is an interesting pamphlet, written in a style of neatness and purity not often equalled on our side of the atlantick. After remarking that we are subject to greater extremes of heat and cold than the inhabitants of the opposite shores of Europe, and suggesting a doubt whether the cause of the difference be understood, the author observes,

"It is a generally received opinion that the climate of Europe has been rendered more mild by the progress of cultivation, and from hence it is very naturally inferred that the same cause will produce the same effect in America; and that in proportion as the forests disappear and give place to cultivated fields, the winter's cold, if not the heat of summer, will become less intense."

This reasoning is not however satisfactory to him, " and if the conjectures," he adds, "which have occurred to me are founded on truth, the woods of America may be cleared, and the country brought to the highest state of improvement, and the climate yet remain unaltered.

VOL. IX.

He proposes to account for the difference in this manner:

"If, on the eastern coasts of both the new and the old continent, the winds should be found to blow generally from the land, and on the western coasts from the sea, this circumstance would of itself be sufficient to account for this difference.

"The sea air would impart warmth in winter and coolness in summer to the western parts of both continents; while, on the eastern shores of both, the summer's heat as well as the cold of winter would be greatly increased by the land winds passing over a heated surface in the one season and a frozen surface in the other."

In bringing forward his theory, our author differs from the general opinion of the direction of winds; and we fear that some of his postulates may be disputable, and some of his facts false or trivial. He informs us that

"The city of Pekin, which is nearly in the latitude of Philadelphia, is no less subject to extremes of heat and cold, perhaps more so, than the latter city, and the cold of Kamschatka rivals that of Hudson's Bay."

The latter remark may be true, but it weighs nothing in the argument. In the neighbourhood of the pole the inclemency which forbids vegetation is not to be affected by longitude, can neither be increased by elevation of mountains, nor mitigated by expansion of seas. Upon the cold of Pekin we shall observe, after introducing a quotation on the general climate of China. The writer thinks,

"That there is no reasonable ground to expect any great change of climate from the progress of cultivation. If it is to produce such an effect on the eastern coast of the new continent, how has it happened that China, which occupies so great a portion of the eastern side of the old, which was cleared of its forests and brought to the highest state of improvement while Europe was covered with woods, and which has always continued to maintain its superiority both in population and the art of husbandry, should after the lapse of thousands of years be subject to as great extremes of heat and cold as the forests of North America? And to what cause is it owing, that the uncultivated wilds on the western side of North America, bear so great a resemblance, in point of climate, to the highly improved countries of Europe?"

At a distance of only fifty or sixty miles from Pekin begin the mountains of Tartary, of greater extent than the endless ridges of the Alleghany, and three or four times as high, covered with perpetual snow, which satisfactorily accounts for