Stock-doves and turtles tell their amorous pain, And, from the lofty elms, of love complain.

TITYRUS.

The inhabitants of seas and skies shall change, And fish on shore and stags in air shall range, The banished Parthian dwell on Arar's brink, And the blue German shall the Tigris drink, Ere I, forsaking gratitude and truth, Forget the figure of that godlike youth.

MELIBEUS.

But we must beg our bread in climes unknown, Beneath the scorching or the freezing zone: And some to far Oaxis shall be sold, Or try the Libyan heat or Scythian cold; The rest among the Britons be confined, A race of men from all the world disjoined. O, must the wretched exiles ever mourn, Nor after length of rolling years return? Are we condemned, by fate's unjust decree, No more our houses and our homes to see? Or shall we mount again the rural throne, And rule the country kingdoms, once our own? Did we for these barbarians plant and sow? On these, on these, our happy fields bestow? [flow! Good Heaven! what dire effects from civil discord Now let me graft my pears, and prune the vineThe fruit is theirs, the labor only mine. Farewell my pastures, my paternal stock, My fruitful fields, and my more fruitful flock! No more, my goats, shall I behold you climb The steepy cliffs, or crop the flowery thyme! No more, extended in the grot below, Shall see you browsing on the mountain's brow The prickly shrubs; and after on the bare, Lean down the deep abyss, and hang in air. No more my sheep shall sip the morning dew; No more my song shall please the rural crew; Adieu, my tuneful pipe! and all the world adieu!

TITY RUS.

This night, at least, with me forget your care! Chestnuts and curds and cream shall be your fare; The carpet-ground shall be with leaves o'erspread, And boughs shall weave a covering for your head. For, see! yon sunny hill the shade extends, And curling smoke from cottages ascends!

HERBERT'S "NORTHERN SPRING."

A DESCRIPTIVE IDYL.

YESTREEN the mountain's rugged brow Was mantled o'er with dreary snow; The sun set red behind the hill, And every breath of wind was still ; But ere he rose, the southern blast A veil o'er heaven's blue arch had cast; Thick rolled the clouds, and genial rain Poured the wide deluge o'er the plain.

Fair glens and verdant vales appear,
And warmth awakes the budding year.
O, 't is the touch of fairy hand
That wakes the spring of northern land!
It warms not there by slow degrees,
With changeful pulse, the uncertain breeze;
But sudden on the wondering sight
Bursts forth the beam of living light,
And instant verdure springs around,
And magic flowers bedeck the ground.
Returned from regions far away,
The red-winged throstle pours his lay;
The soaring snipe salutes the spring,
While the breeze whistles through his wing;
And, as he hails the melting snows,
The heath-cock claps his wing and crows.

MELEAGER'S "SPRING."

AN IDY L.

TRANSLATED BY REV. J. S. BUCKMINSTER.1

Now Winter's storms, which chilled the sky,
Before the tepid breezes fly;
Smiling advance the rosy hours,
Strewing around their purple flowers;
Brown earth is crowned with herbage green,
And decked with bloom each twig is seen;
The rose displays its lovely hues

In meads, which quaff the morning dews;
His whistle shrill the shepherd blows;
His kids the gladsome goatherd knows ;
E'en now I see the sailor's boat,
Wafted by gentle breezes, float;
And Bacchus' girls, with ivy crowned,
Shout, Io! through the echoing ground.
The bees in clusters round the hive,
Loaded with liquid sweets, arrive ;
And, murmuring still in busy mood,
Elaborate their luscious food.

The race of warblers' pour their throats;"
The blue wave wafts the halcyon's notes;
The swallow twittering flits along ;
The white swan pours his piercing song;
And Philomela mourns the woods among.

Does, then, the green earth teem with gladness?
Has Nature dropt her robe of sadness?
Do the swains pipe; the flocks rejoice;
The mountains echo Bacchus' voice;
The mariners their sails unloose;
The bees distil their luscious juice?
Has spring inspired the warbling throng?
And can't the poet make a song?

1 Meleager was a Syrian, of Gadara, one of the ten cities of Decapolis, east of the Sea of Galilee. He wrote in Greek, and first collected a Greek Anthology. The translation was made by that elegant scholar, the lamented pastor of Brattle-street church, Boston, and first appeared in the Literary Miscellany, 1805.

"AIR."

ADDRESS TO HEALTH. HER ATTRIBUTES AND POWER.

DAUGHTER of Pæan, queen of every joy, Hygeia; whose indulgent smile sustains The various race luxuriant nature pours, And on the immortal essences bestows Immortal youth; auspicious, O descend! Thou, cheerful guardian of the rolling year, Whether thou wanton'st on the western gale, Or shak'st the rigid pinions of the north, Diffusest life and vigor through the tracts Of air, through earth, and ocean's deep domain. When through the blue serenity of heaven Thy power approaches, all the wasteful host Of pain and sickness, squalid and deformed, Confounded sink into the loathsome gloom, Where, in deep Erebus involved, the fiends Grow more profane. Whatever shapes of death, Shook from the hideous chambers of the globe, Swarm through the shuddering air: whatever plagues Or meagre famine breeds, or with slow wings Rise from the putrid watery element, The damp waste forest, motionless and rank, That smothers earth and all the breathless winds, Or the vile carnage of the inhuman field; Whatever baneful breathes the rotten south; Whatever ills the extremes or sudden change Of cold and hot, or moist and dry, produce; They fly thy pure effulgence: they, and all The secret poisons of avenging Heaven, And all the pale tribes halting in the train Of vice and heedless pleasure or if aught The comet's glare amid the burning sky, Mournful eclipse, or planets ill combined, Portend disastrous to the vital world, Thy salutary power averts their rage, Averts the general bane: and but for thee Nature would sicken, nature soon would die.

HYGEIA'S AID INVOKED IN TEACHING THE LAWS OF HEALTH.

Without thy cheerful active energy

No rapture swells the breast, no poet sings,
No more the maids of Helicon delight.
Come, then, with me, O goddess, heavenly-gay!
Begin the song; and let it sweetly flow,

And let it sweetly teach thy wholesome laws :
How best the fickle fabric to support

Of mortal man; in healthful body how

1 Hygeia, the goddess of health, was, according to the genealogy of the heathen deities, the daughter of Esculapius; who, as well as Apollo, was distinguished by the name of Pæon, Pæan, or Paeon.

A healthful mind the longest to maintain.'
'Tis hard, in such a strife of rules, to choose
The best, and those of most extensive use;
Harder in clear and animated song
Dry philosophic precepts to convey.
Yet with thy aid the secret wilds I trace
Of nature, and with daring steps proceed
Through paths the muses never trod before.

TRIBUTE TO DR. MEAD.

Nor should I wander doubtful of my way, Had I the lights of that sagacious mind Which taught to check the pestilential fire, And quell the deadly Python of the Nile. O thou beloved by all the graceful arts, Thou, long the favorite of the healing powers, Indulge, O Mead! a well-designed essay, Howe'er imperfect; and permit that I My little knowledge with my country share, Till you the rich Asclepian stores unlock, And with new graces dignify the theme.

CITY AIR CONDEMNED. ITS COMPOSITION. HORRIBLE MIXTURE.CORRECTED IN PART BY THE COAL-SMOKE.

Ye who, amid this feverish world, would wear
A body free of pain, of cares a mind,
Fly the rank city, shun its turbid Air;
Breathe not the chaos of eternal smoke
And volatile corruption, from the dead,
The dying, sickening, and the living world
Exhaled, to sully heaven's transparent dome
With dim mortality. It is not Air

That from a thousand lungs reeks back to thine,
Sated with exhalations rank and fell,
The spoils of dunghills, and the putrid thaw
Of nature; when from shape and texture she
Relapses into fighting elements :-

It is not Air, but floats a nauseous mass
Of all obscene, corrupt, offensive things.
Much moisture hurts; but here a sordid bath,
With oily rancor fraught, relaxes more
The solid frame than simple moisture can.
Beside, immured in many a sullen bay
That never felt the freshness of the breeze,
This slumbering deep remains, and ranker grows
With sickly rest and (though the lungs abhor
To drink the dun, fuliginous abyss)
Did not the acid vigor of the mine,
Rolled from so many thundering chimneys, tame
The putrid streams that overswarm the sky,-
This caustic venom would perhaps corrode
Those tender cells that draw the vital air,
In vain with all their unctuous rills bedewed;

Or by the drunken, venous tubes, that yawn In countless pores o'er all the pervious skin, Imbibed, would poison the balsamic blood, And rouse the heart to every fever's rage.

THE COUNTRY RECOMMENDED. - FAVORITE SITES FOR HOMES.

While yet you breathe, away! the rural wilds Invite; the mountains call you, and the vales; The woods, the streams, and each ambrosial breeze That fans the ever-undulating sky;

A kindly sky! whose fostering power regales
Man, beast, and all the vegetable reign.
Find then some woodland scene where Nature smiles
Benign, where all her honest children thrive.
To us there wants not many a happy seat!
Look round the smiling land, such numbers rise
We hardly fix, bewildered in our choice.

WINDSOR RICHMOND; HAM; HAMPSTEAD; DULWICH.

See where enthroned in adamantine state, Proud of her bards, imperial Windsor sits! There choose thy seat in some aspiring grove Fast by the slowly-winding Thames; or where Broader she laves fair Richmond's green retreats (Richmond that sees an hundred villas rise Rural or gay). Oh! from the summer's rage, Oh! wrap me in the friendly gloom that hides Umbrageous Ham! But if the busy town Attract thee still to toil for power or gold, Sweetly thou may'st thy vacant hours possess In Hampstead, courted by the western wind; Or Greenwich, waving o'er the winding flood; Or lose the world amid the sylvan wilds Of Dulwich, yet by barbarous art unspoiled.

THE PLAINS OF ESSEX UNHEALTHY. — AGUE PERSONIFIED ; ATROPHY; DROPSY; JAUNdice.

Green rise the Kentish hills in cheerful air; But on the marshy plains that Essex spreads Build not, nor rest too long thy wandering feet. For on a rustic throne of dewy turf, With baneful fogs her aching temples bound, Quartana there presides; a meagre fiend Begot by Eurus, when his brutal force Compressed the slothful Naiad of the Fens. From such a mixture sprung, this fitful pest With feverish blasts subdues the sickening land: Cold tremors come, with mighty love of rest, Convulsive yawnings, lassitude, and pains That sting the burdened brows, fatigue the loins, And rack the joints and every torpid limb; Then parching heat succeeds, till copious sweats O'erflow - a short relief from former ills. Beneath repeated shocks the wretches pine; The vigor sinks, the habit melts away; The cheerful, pure, and animated bloom Dies from the face, with squalid atrophy Devoured, in sallow melancholy clad. And oft the sorceress, in her sated wrath,

Resigns them to the furies of her train ; The bloated Hydrops, and the yellow fiend Tinged with her own accumulated gall.

WHAT SITE FOR A HOMESTEAD IS TO BE AVOIDED; MOIST SEA-SHORE HUMIDITY. DROPSY, PALSY, GOUT, AGUE, SCURVY, CATARRH.

In quest of sites, avoid the mournful plain Where osiers thrive, and trees that love the lake ; Where many lazy, muddy rivers flow : Nor, for the wealth that all the Indies roll, Fix near the marshy margin of the main. For from the humid soil and watery reign Eternal vapors rise; the spongy air Forever weeps; or, turgid with the weight Of waters, pours a sounding deluge down. Skies such as these let every mortal shun Who dreads the dropsy, palsy, or the gout, Tertian, corrosive scurvy, or catarrh ; Or any other injury that grows From raw-spun fibres, idle and unstrung, Skin ill-perspiring, and the purple flood In languid eddies loitering into phlegm.

A SITUATION MAY BE TOO DRY. MELANCHOLY; FEVERS.

Yet not alone from humid skies we pine; For Air may be too dry. The subtle heaven, That winnows into dust the blasted downs, Bare and extended wide without a stream, Too fast imbibes the attenuated lymph, Which by the surface from the blood exhales. The lungs grow rigid, and with toil essay Their flexible vibrations; or, inflamed, Their tender, ever-moving structure thaws. Spoiled of its limpid vehicle, the blood A mass of lees remains, a drossy tide That slow as Lethe wanders through the veins ; Unactive in the services of life, Unfit to lead its pitchy current through The secret mazy channels of the brain. The melancholic Fiend (that worst despair Of physic) hence the rust-complexioned man Pursues, whose blood is dry, whose fibres gain Too stretched a tone and hence, in climes adust, So sudden tumults seize the trembling nerves, And burning fevers glow with double rage.

AVOID EXTREMES OF MOIST OR DRY. REMEDIES. - HABIT.
-DRAINING. CLEARING UP THE UNDERBRUSH.

Fly, if you can, these violent extremes
Of Air; the wholesome is nor moist nor dry.
But as the power of choosing is denied
To half mankind, a further task ensues;
How best to mitigate these fell extremes,
How breathe unhurt the withering element,
Or hazy atmosphere: though custom moulds
To every clime the soft Promethean clay;
And he who first the fogs of Essex breathed
(So kind is native air), may in the fens
Of Essex from inveterate ills revive
At pure Montpelier or Bermuda caught.

But if the raw and oozy heaven offend,
Correct the soil, and dry the sources up
Of watery exhalation; wide and deep
Conduct your trenches through the quaking bog ;
Solicitous, with all your winding arts,
Betray the unwilling lake into the stream;
And weed the forest, and invoke the winds
To break the toils where strangled vapors lie;
Or through the thickets send the crackling flames.

HUMIDITY

DISPELLED BY GOOD FIRES. ROAST MEATS;
GOOD WINE; TEMPERANCE; EXERCISE; ACTIVITY.
Meantime at home with cheerful fire dispel
The humid air: and let your table smoke
With solid roast or baked; or what the herds
Of tamer breed supply; or what the wilds
Yield to the toilsome pleasures of the chase.
Generous your wine, the boast of ripening years;
But frugal be your cups: the languid frame,
Vapid and sunk from yesterday's debauch,
Shrinks from the cold embrace of watery heavens.
But neither these, nor all Apollo's arts,
Disarm the dangers of the dropping sky,
Unless with exercise and manly toil

You brace your nerves, and spur the lagging blood.
The fattening clime let all the sons of ease
Avoid; if indolence would wish to live,
Go, yawn and loiter out the long slow year
In fairer skies.

REMEDIES AGAINST A TO0 DRY LOCATION. — FOREST; ARTIFICIAL PONDS; SUCCULENT VEGETABLES; SOUPS; BOILED MEATS.

If droughty regions parch

The skin and lungs, and bake the thickening blood;
Deep in the waving forest choose your seat,
Where fuming trees refresh the thirsty air;
And wake the fountains from their secret beds,
And into lakes dilate the rapid stream.

Here spread your gardens wide; and let the cool,
The moist relaxing vegetable store,
Prevail in each repast: your food supplied
By bleeding life, be gently wasted down,
By soft decoction and a mellowing heat,
To liquid balm; or, if the solid mass
You choose, tormented in the boiling wave;
That through the thirsty channels of the blood
A smooth, diluted chyle may ever flow.

DRINKS FOR A DRY CLIMATE. MILK. SHERBET. WINTER

DRINKS.

The fragrant dairy from its cold recess
Its nectar, acid or benign, will pour

To drown your thirst; or let the mantling bowl
Of keen sherbet the fickle taste relieve.
For with the viscous blood the simple stream
Will hardly mingle; and fermented cups
Oft dissipate more moisture than they give.
Yet when pale seasons rise, or winter rolls
His horrors o'er the world, thou may'st indulge
In feasts more genial, and impatient broach
The mellow cask. Then too the scourging air

Provokes to keener toils than sultry droughts Allow. But rarely we such skies blaspheme.

THE ENGLISH CLIMATE DESCRIBED.A DISMAL PICTURE.

Steeped in continual rains, or with raw fogs
Bedewed, our seasons droop: incumbent still
A ponderous heaven o'erwhelms the sinking soul.
Laboring with storms, in heapy mountains rise
The imbattled clouds, as if the Stygian shades
Had left the dungeon of eternal night,
Till black with thunder all the south descends.
Scarce in a showerless day the heavens indulge
Our melting clime; except the baleful east
Withers the tender spring, and sourly checks
The fancy of the year. Our fathers talk
Of summers, balmy airs, and skies serene.
Good Heaven! for what unexpiated crimes
This dismal change? The brooding elements,
Do they, your powerful ministers of wrath,
Prepare some fierce exterminating plague?
Or is it fixed in the decrees above
That lofty Albion melt into the main?
Indulgent Nature! O dissolve this gloom;
Bind in eternal adamant the winds

That drown or wither: give the genial west
To breathe, and, in its turn, the sprightly north:
And may once more the circling seasons rule
The year; not mix in every monstrous day.

A CHOICE LOCATION DESCRIBED; WHERE MARJORAM, THYME, AND ROSES BLOOM. ASPECT.ITS LUXURIES.

Meantime, the moist malignity to shun

Of burthened skies, mark where the dry champaign
Swells into cheerful hills; where marjoram
And thyme, the love of bees, perfume the air;
And where the cynorrhodon with the rose
For fragrance vies; for in the thirsty soil
Most fragrant breathe the aromatic tribes.
There bid thy roofs high on the basking steep
Ascend; there light thy hospitable fires;
And let them see the winter morn arise,
The summer evening blushing in the west;
While with umbrageous oaks the ridge behind
O'erhung, defends you from the blustering north,
And bleak affliction of the peevish east.
Oh! when the growling winds contend, and all
The sounding forest fluctuates in the storm
To sink in warm repose, and hear the din
Howl o'er the steady battlements, delights
Above the luxury of common sleep.

ADVANTAGES OF A NEAR-BY RIVULET; IT KEEPS THE AIR IN MOTION. THE BREEZY RIDGE.

The murmuring rivulet, and the hoarser strain Of waters rushing o'er the slippery rocks, Will nightly lull you to ambrosial rest. To please the fancy is no trifling good, Where health is studied; for whatever moves The mind with calm delight, promotes the just And natural movements of the harmonious frame.

1 The wild rose, or that which grows on the common brier.

Besides, the sportive brook forever shakes
The trembling air, that floats from hill to hill,
From vale to mountain, with incessant change
Of purest element, refreshing still
Your airy seat, and uninfected gods.
Chiefly for this I praise the man who builds
High on the breezy ridge, whose lofty sides
The ethereal deep with endless billows chafes.
His purer mansion nor contagious years
Shall reach, nor deadly putrid airs annoy.

THE HOUSE SHOULD BE DRY.-EPSOM; THE LEE; CHELSEA; BLACKHEATH.-COUGHS. LOFTY CEILINGS.-WINDOWS SHOULD BE OPENED AT NOON.

But may not fogs, from lake or fenny plain, Involve my hill! And wheresoe'er you build, Whether on sunburnt Epsom, or the plains Washed by the silent Lee; in Chelsea low, Or high Blackheath with wintry winds assailed; Dry be your house: but airy more than warm. Else every breath of ruder wind will strike Your tender body through with rapid pains; Fierce coughs will tease you, hoarseness bind your Or moist gravedo load your aching brows. These to defy, and all the fates that dwell In cloistered air, tainted with steaming life, Let lofty ceilings grace your ample rooms;

[voice,

And still at azure noontide may your dome

At every window drink the liquid sky.

A SOUTHERN ASPECT RECOMMENDED. DEEP VALLEYS.-
SUNLIGHT REQUISITE TO VEGETABLE AND ANIMAL HEALTH.
-THE SUN THE MEDIUM OF ANIMAL AND VEGETABLE LIFE.

Need we the sunny situation here,
And theatres open to the south commend ;
Here, where the morning's misty breath infests
More than the torrid noon? How sickly grow,
How pale, the plants in those ill-fated vales
That, circled round with the gigantic heap
Of mountains, never felt, nor ever hope
To feel, the genial vigor of the sun!
While on the neighboring hill the rose inflames
The verdant spring; in verdant beauty blows
The tender lily, languishingly sweet;
O'er every hedge the wanton woodbine roves,
And autumn ripens in the summer's ray.
Nor less the warmer living tribes demand
The fostering sun; whose energy divine
Dwells not in mortal fire; whose generous heat
Glows through the mass of grosser elements,
And kindles into life the ponderous spheres.
Cheered by thy fond, invigorating warmth,
We court thy beams, great majesty of day!
If not the soul, the regent of this world,
First-born of heaven, and only less than God!