Shall soon in lovelier beauty smile And, bursting through the dusky shroud Man, Christian, dry thy falling tear, A Saviour's blood hath bought thy peace, For not to Sinai's flaming height We lift the fearful eye, Where clouds and shades of fiercest night Proclaim Jehovah nigh. The lightning shaft in vengeance aim'd, The tempest's awful hour, Whose funeral notes too well proclaim'd All, all are fled;-in Levi's line HENRY KIRKE WHITE. BORN 1785-DIED 1806, THE promising talents and early death of this youthful poet, together with the singular good fortune of finding such a biographer as Mr Southey, have made his memory and his writings the object of affectionate interest to a numerous and exemplary class of pious persons in England. Whether his poetical reputation is on the decline we have no means of ascertaining, though internal evidence warrants the belief that it must already have reached its zenith. The most remarkable quality of White's mind appears to have been perseverance,-a virtue which is too seldom found united with a highly-poetical cast of character. Accordingly we find in his brief story none of the nervous shrinking timidity of halfconscious unfriended genius, scared even at its own. brightness. At every step of his progress he was in nothing wanting to himself, in so far as active though not unbecoming efforts could secure the excellent object which he held steadily in view. Had he lived he would certainly have been a man distinguished in his generation by learning and industry-that he would ever have been a great poet is highly questionable. Henry Kirke White was the second son of a butcher in Nottingham. His mother was of a respectable family in Staffordshire, and a person of some education. At the age of three years, Henry was sent to a dame's school, of which he has given a very engaging description in his poem entitled Childhood. This sagacious dame had the merit of first discovering Henry's superiority over the little herd that daily attended her instructions, and he became her favourite scholar. At six years of age he was regularly put to school; and at seven, it is said, he first attempted composition. Henry was now occasionally employed by his father, who intended him for his own trade, in carrying the butcher's basket. He appeared an untoward obstinate boy to those who had not discernment sufficient to penetrate the real tendencies of his character, and lived in a state of constant hostility with his teacher. When Henry was about fourteen, his mother, assisted by one of her daughters who had been well educated, opened a day boarding-school, and succeeded so much beyond expectation that she was enabled to redeem her son from one of the most unpleasant employments of civilized life, and to place him as apprentice to a hosier, the hosiery manufacture being the staple trade of Nottingham. But White was dissatisfied with even this decent calling, and, after a year's trial, his kind and anxious mother contrived to have him placed apprentice to an attorney. He now had comparative leisure, and an overweening desire for the acquisition of knowledge, and for literary distinction. At this period he acquired, almost unaided, a competent knowledge of Latin and Greek, to which he afterwards added the modern languages. Every spare minute of the day and half the night were devoted to those studies and to composition. He lived indeed in a state of continual excitement,-the thirst for knowledge and the love of literature glowing in his bosom with the fervour of a youthful passion. The silent, unmarked progress of his intellect was doubtless attended with much secret enjoyment to the solitary enthusiastic student i and White was probably a happier youth, as described stealing to his garret with the precious volume and secreted candle-end, than the gayest of his compeers who spent their evenings in amusements more suited to their common age. The variety of Henry's accomplishments, and the abundance of his productions, however, bear stronger testimony to his indefatigable industry than to his natural genius. His compositions have superficies but they want depth. Chatterton died at sixteen, Michael Bruce at twenty-one, Pattison at twenty-four,the Pleasures of Hope and the Odes of Collins were written while the respective authors were almost in nonage; and, as a poet, all that can be said of Henry Kirke White is, that he was a clever, persevering, and ambitious youth, who wrote many very tolerable verses. White had now become the correspondent of some of the periodical publications of that day; and he at last turned his thoughts to the University. The encouragement which his little occasional pieces had received induced him to attempt the publication of a small volume of poems; and on the fate of this volume he rested his future prospects of completing his education. For a youth of genius, unknown to the ways of life, Henry, as we have hinted, seems never in any respect to have been wanting to himself. The patronage of a fashionable lady for a volume of anonymous poems, was probably of more consequence twenty years ago than now; and he applied to the Countess of Derby as one who owed her station to talent. A very polite note, declining the honour, but enclosing a two-pound note as her Ladyship's subscription, was, says Mr Southey, not a little gratifying to Henry. He, however, immediately sought another patroness. That Dutchess of Devonshire, of whom every body naturally speaks as if there had only been one of the name, and never could be another, with all her imputed faults, could never turn a cold ear to an appeal made to her kindness of heart. The volume was permitted to be dedicated to her, and a copy was transmitted; but the young poet heard no more of his careless patroness than it is likely she ever heard of him or his verses. The effect of a volume of poems issued in an English provincial town, and imputed to a lad who but the other day carried a butcher's basket, and was still merely an attorney's apprentice, may be imagined. The prophet found no honour in his own country; and was severely wounded by the gossips of Nottingham ascribing his verses to a married sister. If White did not at once succeed, he left no stone unturned in the path of literary prosperity. Along with a copy of his poems he sent a very humble letter to the Aristarch of the day—the editor of the Monthly Review-the very beadle of false rhymes and mixed metaphors. It was too much to expect that this monthly critic could refrain from proclaiming aloud his discovery, that sky did not rhyme to boy; from whence the conclusion was drawn, that Henry had not yet attained what the Reviewer characteristically calls "the difficult art of writing good poetry." In the preface to his poems White had stated that his object in the publication was to get to the University; and he fully explained his situation and views to the Reviewers. To this they alluded in the mortifying notice of his volume in a style of insolent sympathy most galling to his feelings. To their injustice Henry replied with feeling and spirit. In the affairs of life, good and evil to mortal sight are ever strangely mingled. Henry to this ungenerous dealing owed the countenance and friendship of his future biographer. With rare and admirable kindness, Mr Southey, who had by some means become acquainted with the transaction, wrote to the youth, gave his volume fully more praise than it deserved, raised his drooping spirits, and encouraged him in his chosen career. Henry's release from his master was procured with some difficulty, and he went to Cambridge. Several generous and pious persons were anxious to promote his views of qualifying himself for the church; and his relations made very great sacrifices to support him at Cambridge, where he was admitted a sizer. In this situation, and with so many motives to exertion, his zeal and industry were, if possible, redoubled. He obtained several prizes at the public examinations; but the effects of this over-exertion |