2.

Martyn's friend in London, expressed displeasure at his arrival; but the first interview removed all objection.

I may here add, as at the same time showing Henry's aspirations after fame and the principles by which he had learnt to regulate his ambition, that on the cover of one of his commonplace books he had written these mottoes.

ΑΛΛΑ ΓΑΡ ΕΣΤΙΝ ΜΟΥΣΑ ΚΑΙ ΗΜΙΝ

EURIP: MEDEA. 1091.

Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise
(That last infirmity of noble minds),

To scorn delight, and live laborious days.

MILTON'S LYCidas, 70.

Under these lines was placed a reference to the following extract, (in another page,) from Barrow. "The Holy Scripture does not teach us to slight honour; but rather, in its fit order and just measure, to love and prove it. It directs us not to make a regard thereto our chief principle; not to propound it as our main end of action. It charges us, to bear contentedly the

want or loss thereof, as of other temporal goods. Yea, in some cases, for conscience sake, or for God's service, (that is, for a good incomparably better,) it obliges us willingly to prostitute and sacrifice it, choosing rather to be infamous than impious; in disgrace with man, rather than in disfavour with God. It, in fine, commands us to seek and embrace it only in subordination, and with final reference to God's honour."

It is a mournful thing to consider how much
the world has lost in a mind so highly gifted, and
regulated by such principles. The country is
overflowing with talents: and mere talents, di-
rected as they are more frequently to evil than
to good, are to be regretted when they are
cut off, only in compassion for those who must
answer for their misapplication: but one who
had chosen his part well, and would have stood
forward, armed at all points, among the conserv-
ative spirits of the age, can ill be spared. Yet
he has not lived in vain, either for himself or
others. Perhaps no after-works which he might
have left on earth, however elaborate, could have
been so influential as his youthful example. For
many are the
young and ardent minds who have
received, and many, many more are they who

1

will receive, from him a right bias in the beginning of their course. Many are the youthful poets who will recognize their own feelings concerning Henry Kirke White, in this sweet Sonnet.

Tho' as the dew of morning, short thy date,
Tho' sorrow look'd on thee, and said

"be mine!"

I burn - I burn to share thy glorious fate,
Above whate'er of honours, or estate,

This transient world can give! I would resign,
With rapture, Fortune's choicest gifts for thine,—
More truly noble, more sublimely great.

For thou hast gain'd the prize of well-tried worth,
That prize which from thee neyer can be riven;
Thine, Henry, is a deathless name on earth,

Thine amaranthine wreaths, new-pluck'd in heaven!
By what aspiring child of mortal birth

Could more be ask'd, to whom might more be given?

CHAUNCY HARE TOWnsend.

A tablet to Henry's memory, with a medallion by Chantrey, has been placed in All-Saint's Church, Cambridge, at the expense of a young American Gentleman, Mr. Francis Boott, of Boston. During his travels in this country, he

visited the grave of one whom he had learnt to love and regret in America; and finding no other memorial of him than the initials of his name upon the plain stone which covers his perishable remains, ordered this monument to be erected. It bears the following inscription by Professor Smyth, who, while Henry was living, treated him with characteristic kindness, and has consigned to posterity this durable expression of his friendship.

Warm with fond hope and learning's sacred flame,
To Granta's bowers the youthful poet came;
Unconquer'd powers the immortal mind displayed,
But worn with anxious thought the frame decayed:
Pale o'er his lamp, and in his cell retir'd,
The martyr student faded, and expired.

Oh! genius, taste, and piety sincere,
Too early lost, midst studies too severe !
Foremost to mourn was generous Southey seen,

He told the tale, and show'd what White had been;
Nor told in vain. - Far o'er the Atlantic wave
A wanderer came, and sought the poet's grave:
On yon low stone he saw his lonely name,

And raised this fond memorial to his fame.

WILLIAM SMYTH.

The Fair Maid of Clifton - A Ballad in the old style....

On Rural Solitude

Song "The Robin Red Breast

Winter Song ....

...... 59

64

66

68

"Sweet Jessy I would fain caress"

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