Arouse thee, GIFFORD! be thy promise claimed, Make bad men better, or at least ashamed.

810

Unhappy WHITE*! while life was in its spring, And thy young Muse just waved her joyous wing, The spoiler swept that soaring dyre away, The spoiler came; and all thy promise fair which else had sounded an immortal lay. Has sought the grave, to sleep for ever there. Oh! what a noble heart was here undone, When Science 'self destroyed her favourite son ! Yes, she too much indulged thy fond pursuit, She sowed the seeds, but death has reaped the fruit. 'Twas thine own Genius gave the final blow And helped to plant the wound that laid thee low;

* HENRY KIRK WHITE died at Cambridge in October 1806, in consequence of too much exertion in the pursuit of studies that would have matured a mind which disease and poverty could not impair, and which Death itself destroyed rather than subdued. His poems abound in such beauties as must impress the reader with the liveliest regret that so short a period was allotted to talents, which would have dignified even the sacred functions he was destined to assume.

So the struck Eagle stretched upon the plain,
No more through rolling clouds to soar again,
Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart,
And winged the shaft that quivered in his heart:
Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel
He nursed the pinion which impelled the steel,
While the same plumage that had warmed his nest,
Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast.

There be, who say in these enlightened days That splendid lies are all the poets praise; That strained invention, ever on the wing, Alone impels the modern Bard to sing:

830

'Tis true, that all who rhyme, nay, all who write, Shrink from that fatal word to Genius-Trite; Yet truth sometimes will lend her noblest fires, And decorate the verse herself inspires:

F

This fact in Virtue's name let CRABBE attest, Though Nature's sternest Painter, yet the best.

And here let SHEE and Genius find a place, Whose pen and pencil yield an equal grace; 840 To guide whose hand the sister Arts combine, And trace the Poet's or the Painter's line; Whose magic touch can bid the canvass glow, Or pour the easy rhymes harmonious flow, While honours doubly, merited attend The Poet's rival, but the Painter's friend.

Blest is the man! who dares approach the bower Where dwelt the Muses at their natal hour;

ญี่ปุ่น

Whose steps have pressed, whose eye has marked

afar,

The clime that nursed the sons of song and war, 850

* Mr. SHEE, author of ". Rhymes on Art," and "Elements of Art."

The scenes which glory still must hover o'er;
Her place of birth, her own Achaian shore:
But doubly blest is he, whose heart expands
With hallowed feelings for those classic lands;
Who rends the veil of ages long gone by,
And views their remnants with a poet's eye!
WRIGHT! 'twas thy happy lot at once to view
Those shores of glory, and to sing them too;
And sure no common Muse inspired thy pen
To hail the land of Gods and Godlike men. 860

And you, associate Bardst! who snatched to light, Those Gems too long withheld from modern sight;

* Mr. WRIGHT, late Consul-General for the Seven Islands, is author of a very beautiful poem just published: it is entitled, "Horæ Ionicæ," and is descriptive of the Isles and the adjacent coast of Greece.

+ The translators of the Anthology have since published separate poems, which evince genius that only requires opportunity to attain eminence.

Whose mingling taste combined to cull the wreath
Where Attic flowers Aonian odours breathe,
And all their renovated fragrance flung,

Το grace the beauties of your native tongue;
Now let those minds that nobly could transfuse
The glorious Spirit of the Grecian Muse,
Though soft the echo, scorn a borrowed tone:
Resign Achaia's lyre, and strike your own. 870

Let these, or such as these, with just applause, Restore the Muse's violated laws; But not in flimsy DARWIN'S pompous chime, That mighty master of unmeaning rhyme; Whose gilded cymbals more adorned than clear, The eye delighted, but fatigued the ear, In show the simple lyre could once surpass, But now worn down, appear in native brass;