Poetical Works | Page 2

a Song by Waller The Wandering Boy Canzonet--"Maiden! wrap thy mantle round thee'" Song--"Softly, softly blow, ye breezes," The Shipwrecked Solitary's Song to the Night The Wonderful Juggler Hymn--"Awake, sweet harp of Judah, wake" A Hymn for Family Worship The Star of Bethlehem Hymn--"O Lord, my God, in mercy turn"
TRIBUTARY VERSES.
Eulogy on Henry Kirke White, by Lord Byron Sonnet on Henry Kirke White, by Capel Lofft Sonnet occasioned by the Second of H. K. White, by the same Written in the Homer of Mr. H. K. White, by the same To the Memory of H. K. White, by the Rev. W. B. Collyer, A.M. Sonnet to H. K. White, on his Poems, by Arthur Owen, Esq. Sonnet, on seeing another written to H. K. White, by the same Reflections on Reading the Life of the late H. K. White, by William Holloway On the Death of Henry Kirke White, by T. Park Lines on the Death of Henry Kirke White, by the Rev. J. Plumptre To Henry Kirke White, by H. Welker Verses occasioned by the Death of H. K. White, by Josiah Conder On Reading H. K. White's Poem on Solitude, by the same Ode on the late Henry Kirke White, by Juvenis Sonnet in Memory of Henry Kirke White, by J. G. Lines on the Death of Henry Kirke White Sonnet to H. K. White, on his Poems, by G. L. C. To the Memory of Henry Kirke White, by a Lady Stanzas supposed to have been written at the Grave of Henry Kirke White, by a Lady

MEMOIR OF HENRY KIRKE WHITE.
BY SIR HARRIS NICOLAS.
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 TOWNSEND.
It has been said that the contrasts of light and shade are as necessary to biography as to painting, and that the character which is radiant with genius and virtue requires to be relieved by more common and opposite qualities. Though this may be true as a principle, there are many exceptions; and the life of Henry Kirke White, whose merits were unalloyed by a single vice, is one of the most memorable. The history of his short and melancholy career, by Mr. Southey, is extremely popular; and when it is remembered that its author is one of the most distinguished of living writers, that as a biographer he is unrivalled, and that he had access to all the materials which exist, it would be as vain to expect from the present Memoir any new facts, as it would be absurd to hope that it will be more worthy of attention than the imperishable monument which his generous friend has erected to his memory.
There is, however, nothing inconsistent with this admission, in presuming that a Life of the Poet might be written almost as interesting as the one alluded to, and without the writer assuming to himself any unusual sagacity. As Mr. Southey's narrative is prefixed to a collection of all Kirke White's remains, in prose as well as in verse, his letters are inserted as part of his works, instead of extracts from them being introduced into the Memoir. This volume will, on the contrary, be confined to his Poems; and such parts of his letters as describe his situation and feelings at particular periods will be introduced into the account of his life. Indeed, so frequent are the allusions to himself in those letters as well as in his poems, that he may be almost considered an autobiographer; and the writer who substitutes his own cold and lifeless sketch for the glowing and animated portrait which these memorials of genius afford, must either be deficient in skill, or be under the dominion of overweening vanity.
Few who have risen to eminence were, on the paternal side at least, of humbler origin than Henry Kirke White. His father, John White, was a butcher at Nottingham; but his mother, who bore the illustrious name of Neville, is said to have belonged to a respectable family in Staffordshire. He was born at Nottingham on the 21st of March, 1785; and in his earliest years indications were observed of the genius for which he was afterwards distinguished. In his poem "Childhood," he has graphically described the little school where, between the age of three and five, he
"enter'd, though with toil and pain, The low vestibule of learning's fane."
The venerable dame by whom he was
"inured to alphabetic toils,"
and whose worth he gratefully commemorates, had the discernment to perceive her charge's talents, and even foretold his future celebrity:
"And, as she gave my diligence its praise, Talk'd of the honour of my future days."
If he did not deceive himself, it was at this period that his imagination became