sufficient sum from the pronts to emei 139 appeared accordingly; but this unfortunate work the Monthly Review attacked with such unmeasured censure, that the young author was almost reduced to despair. He had looked forward to the college as his home of happiness, and one blast seemed to have shipwrecked his hopes for ever. He had not written, however, in vain-for effective patrons, who were able to judge of his merits, came forward, at a time when his despondency was at its height, and through their aid he was enabled to repair to the University of Cambridge, and devote himself to his beloved pursuits. In the case of young White, a double obligation now existed for extraordinary exertion, It was necessary to justify the kindness of his patrons, as well as to further his own success in life, by distinguishing himself as a student, and this could only be done by obtaining those academic honours which would attest his diligence and proficiency. Besides, he had already acquired a considerable literary reputation, which he naturally wished to increase. He read and studied accordingly, and when his health sank under the effort, he supported and forced his delicate constitution with powerful medicines. Nature could not long endure such violence with impunity, and a fever was the consequence, under which he expired on the 19th of October, 1806. The admiration excited by the poems of Henry Kirke White, which were published after his death under the able editorship of Southey, was almost unbounded. This was occasioned, in a great measure, by admiration of his vir tues, and sympathy for his untimely end, as well as by fond calculations of the high eminence he might have attained, if his life had been spared. But this enthusiasm has now subsided, and a more correct estimate is formed of his talents. While his poetry is acknowledged to possess high merit, it is as the poetry of a mere youth only, which it would be ridiculous to compare with that of the great masters of modern song. Kirke White may perhaps be placed in the third class and this is high praise for a poet who died at the age of twenty-one. Maiden! wrap thy mantle round thee, And thou mayst slumber peacefully. Maiden! once gay Pleasure knew thee; Love has been a felon to thee, All under the tree, Where thou wilt sleep most peacefully. 286 WHITE. THE SAVOYARD'S RETURN. Oh! yonder is the well-known spot, Where I shall rest no more to roam! Of distant climes the false report Now safe return'd, with wandering tired, But all their charms could not prevail VERSES. When pride and envy, and the scorn To hear the forest bee on wing, To lie and muse alone-alone, Now, surely, thought I, there's enow, And when the Autumn's withering hand SOLITUDE. It is not that my lot is low, In woods and glens I love to roam, Yet when the silent evening sighs, The autumn leaf is sear and dead, The woods and winds, with sullen wail, I've none to smile when I am free, Yet in my dreams a form I view, TO THE MORNING. WRITTEN DURING ILLNESS. Beams of the day-break faint! I hail And lo! they break between the dewy wreathes The fresh gale o'er the green lawn breathes: The lark has her gay song begun, Gleams on her speckled breast. Now let me leave my restless bed, And o er the spangled uplands tread; Now through the custom'd wood-walk wend; By many a green lane lies my way, Where high o'er head the wild briars bend, I sit me down, and mark the glorious dawn of day. Oh, Heaven! the soft refreshing gale It breathes into my breast! My sunk eye gleams; my cheek, so pale, Blithe Health! thou soul of life and ease! |