And cares and sorrows eat? Why fly from ill With anxious skill, When soon this hand will freeze, this throbbing heart be still. Come, Disappointment, come! Thou art not stern to me; I bend my knee to thee. My race will run, I only bow, and say, My God, thy will be done! On another paper are a few lines, written probably in the freshness of his disappointment. I dream no more-the vision flies away, And Disappointment * * * * There fell my hopes-I lost my all in this, Now hope farewell, farewell all joys below; * His health soon sunk under these habits: he became pale and thin, and at length had a sharp fit of sickness. On his recovery he wrote the beautiful "Lines written in Wilford church-yard on recovery from sickness." See page 334. His friends are of opinion that he never thoroughly recovered from the shock which his constitution then sustained. Many of his poems indicate that he thought himself in danger of consumption; he was not aware that he was genera ting or fostering in himself another disease little less dreadful, and which threatens intellect as well as life. At this time youth was in his favour, and his hopes, which were now again renewed, produced perhaps a better effect than medicine. Mr. Dashwood obtained for him an introduction to Mr. Simeon, of King's College, and with this he was induced to go to Cambridge. His friend Almond, who had recently entered at Trinity College, had already endeavoured to interest in his behalf some persons who might be able to assist him in the great object of his desire, that of passing through the University, and qualifying himself for holy orders. It is neither to be wondered at, nor censured, that his representations, where he had an opportunity of making them, were for the most part coldly received. They who have been most conversant with youth best understand how little the promises of early genius are to be relied upon : it is among the mortifying truths which we learn from experience, and no common spirit of benevolence is required to overcome the chilling effect of repeated disappointments. He found, however, encouragement from two persons, whose names have since become well known. Mr. Dealtry, then one of the mathematical lecturers at Trinity, was one. This gentleman, whom the love of the abstract sciences had not rendered intolerant of other pursuits more congenial to youthful imaginations, consented to look at Henry's poem of "Time," a manuscript of which was in Almond's possession. The perusal interested him greatly: he entered with his wonted benignity into the con cerns of the author: and would gladly have befriended him, if the requisite assistance had not just at that time been secured from other quarters. The other person in whom Mr. Almond excited an interest for his friend was Henry Martyn, who has since sacrificed his life in the missionary service he was then only a few years older than Henry; equally ardent, equally devout, equally enthusiastic. He heard with emotion of this kindred spirit; read some of his letters, and undertook to enter his name upon the boards of St. John's, (of which college he was a fellow,) saying that a friend in London, whose name he was not at liberty to communicate, had empowered him to assist any deserving young man with thirty pounds a year during his stay at the University. To insure success, one of Henry's letters was transmitted to this unknown friend; and Martyn was not a little surprised and grieved, to learn in reply, that a passage in that letter seemed to render it doubtful whether the writer were a Churchman or a Dissenter; and, therefore, occasioned a demur as to the propriety of assisting him. Just at this time Henry arrived at Cambridge, with an introduction to Mr. Simeon. That gentleman, being in correspondence with Martyn's friend in London, expressed displeasure at his arrival; but the first interview removed all objection. Mr. Simeon, from Mr. Dashwood's recommendation, and from what he saw of his principles and talents, promised to procure for him a sizarship at St. John's, and, with the additional aid of a friend, to supply him with 30%. annually. His brother Neville promised twenty; and his mother, it was hoped, would be able to allow fifteen or twenty more. With this, it was thought, he could go through college. If this prospect had not been opened to him, he would probably have turned his thoughts towards the orthodox Dissenters. On his return to Nottingham, the Rev. Robinson of Leicester, and some other friends, advised him to apply to the Elland Society for assistance, conceiving that it would be less oppressive to his feelings to be dependent on a Society instituted for the express purpose of training up such young men as himself (that is, such in circumstances and opinions) for the ministry, than on the bounty of an individual. In consequence of this advice he went to Elland at the next meeting of the Society, a stranger there, and without one friend among the members. He was examined, for several hours, by about five-and-twenty clergymen, as to his religious views and sentiments, his theological knowledge, and his classical attainments. In the course of the inquiry it appeared that he had published a volume of poems: their questions now began to be very unpleasantly inquisitive concerning the nature of these poems, and he was assailed by queries from all quarters. It was well for Henry that they did not think of referring to the Monthly Review for authority. My letter to him happened to be in his pocket; he luckily recollected this, and produced it as a testi mony in his favour. They did me the honour to say that it was quite sufficient, and pursued this part of their inquiry no farther. Before he left Elland, he was given to understand, that they were well satisfied with his theological knowledge; that they thought his classical proficiency prodigious for his age, and that they had placed him on their books. He returned little pleased with his journey. His friends had been mistaken: the bounty of an individual calls forth a sense of kindness as well as of dependence; that of a Society has the virtue of charity, perhaps, but it wants the grace. He now wrote to Mr. Simeon, stating what he had done, and that the beneficence of his unknown friends was no longer necessary: but that gentleman obliged him to decline the assistance of the Society, which he very willingly did. This being finally arranged, he quitted his employers in October, 1804. How much he had conducted himself to their satisfaction, will appear by this testimony of Mr. Enfield, to his diligence and uniform worth. "I have great pleasure," says this gentleman, "in paying the tribute to his memory of expressing the knowledge which was afforded me during the period of his connexion with Mr. Coldham and myself, of his diligent application, his ardor for study, and his virtuous and amiable disposition. He very soon discovered an unusual aptness in comprehending the routine of business, and great ability and rapidity in the execution of every thing which was intrusted to him. His diligence and punctual attention were unre |