from his mother, before he left Wilford, that the efforts made to place him at Cambridge had failed. It was evidently to these, which for the time blighted his aspirations, that he alluded, when he says he was,

"From Hope's summit hurl'd."

His remark to his mother on the occasion evinced great energy of mind. His plaints were confined to verse, for the disappointment had no other effect upon his conduct than to induce him to apply with unprecedented vigour to his studies, that since he was to revert to the law as a profession he might not be, as he himself observed, "a mediocre attorney." He read regularly from five in the morning until some time after midnight, and occasionally passed whole nights without lying down; nor could the entreaties, even when accompanied by the tears of his mother, that he would not thus destroy his health, induce him to relax his fatal zeal.

Symptoms of Consumption began now to excite the anxiety of his family, a disease to which he ultimately became a victim, and which he truly designates, in one of his many allusions to it, as

"The most fatal of Pandora's train."

Illness and every other thought now, however, became absorbed in the realization of the hope which was dearest to his heart. The exertions of his friends proved successful at a time when all

expectations had vanished; and by their united efforts it was resolved that he should become a sizer of St. John's College, Cambridge.

For his maintenance his brother Neville, his mother, and a benevolent individual, whose name is not mentioned, contributed. It appears, had he not succeeded in that object, he intended to have joined the society of orthodox dissenters, for which purpose he underwent an examination. Though his attainments and character proved satisfactory, his volume of poems rose up in judgment against him, and nothing but the approbation which Mr. Southey had expressed of them prevented that circumstance from being deemed to disqualify him. His feelings on the prospect of entering the church are described with great force in his letter, dated in April, 1804.

"Most fervently do I return thanks to God for this providential opening: it has breathed new animation into me, and my breast expands with the prospect of becoming the minister of Christ where I most desired it; but where I almost feared all probability of success was nearly at an end. Indeed, I had begun to turn my thoughts to the dissenters, as people of whom I was destined, not by choice, but necessity, to become the pastor. Still, although I knew I should be happy any where, so that I were a profitable labourer in the vineyard, I did, by no means, feel that calm, that indescribable satisfaction which I do when I look toward that church, which I think in the main formed on the

apostolic model, and from which I am decidedly of opinion there is no positive grounds for dissent. I return thanks to God for keeping me so long in suspense, for I know it has been beneficial to my soul, and I feel a considerable trust that the way is now about to be made clear, and that my doubts and fears on this head will, in due time, be removed."

Being advised to degrade for a year, and to place himself under a private tutor, he went to the Rev. Mr. Grainger of Winteringham, in Lincolnshire, in the autumn of 1804. Whilst under that gentleman's care he studied with such intense fervour, that fears were excited not for his health only but for his intellects; and a second severe attack of illness was the consequence. Poesy was now entirely neglected, as he himself told a friend in February, 1805.

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My poor neglected muse has lain absolutely unnoticed by me for the last four months, during which period I have been digging in the mines of Scapula for Greek roots, and instead of drinking with eager delight the beauties of Virgil have been culling and drying his phrases for future use.""I fear my good genius, who was wont to visit me with nightly visions in woods and brakes and by the river's marge, is now dying of a fen ague, and I shall thus probably emerge from my retreat not a hair-brained son of imagination, but a sedate black-lettered bookworm, with a head like an etymologicon magnum."

To Mr. Capel Lofft, in the September follow

ing, after stating that all his time was employed in preparing himself for orders, as his idea of the necessary qualifications was very high, he observed:

"I often, however, cast a look of fond regret to the darling occupations of my younger hours, and the tears rush into my eyes, as I fancy I see the few wild flowers of poetic genius, with which I have been blessed, withering with neglect. Poetry has been to me something more than amusement; it has been a cheering companion when I have had no other to fly to, and a delightful solace when consolation has been in some measure needful. I cannot, therefore, discard so old and faithful a friend without deep regret, especially when I reflect that, stung by my ingratitude, he may desert me for ever!"

But his old fire was, he adds, rekindled by looking over some pieces which Mr. Lofft wished to print with some of his own, and he transmitted a short poem to which his regret at taking leave of his favourite pursuit gave birth. The following passages could only have arisen from a love of poetry, which it was not in the power of severer studies to extinguish :

Heart-soothing Poesy! Though thou hast ceased
To hover o'er the many voiced strings

Of my long silent lyre, yet thou canst still
Call the warm tear from its thrice hallow'd cell,
And with recalled images of bliss

Warm my reluctant heart. Yes, I would throw,
Once more would throw, a quick and hurried hand

O'er the responding chords. It hath not ceased,
It cannot, will not cease; the heavenly warmth
Plays round my heart, and mantles o'er my cheek ;
Still, though unbidden, plays. Fair Poesy!
The summer and the spring, the wind and rain,
Sunshine and storm, with various interchange,

Have mark'd full many a day, and week, and month,
Since by dark wood, or hamlet far retired,

Spell-struck, with thee I loiter'd. Sorceress!

I cannot burst thy bonds!

In October 1805 Kirke White became a resident member of St. John's, Cambridge; and such had been the use which he made of his time whilst at Winteringham that his classical knowledge was as conspicuous as his genius. But he had dearly purchased his superiority. His constitution was much shattered when he went to Mr. Grainger, and every day brought with it new proofs that his career had nearly reached its bounds. The only chance of prolonging his life was to seek a milder climate, and abandon study as if it were a certain poison. As in all great minds, Fame was, however, dearer to him even than existence. He felt that every thing connected with his future prospects was at stake; and he adhered to a course of rigorous application until nature gave way. During his first term he became a candidate for one of the University scholarships; but the increased exertion which he underwent was attended by results which obliged him to retire from the contest. At this moment the general college examination approached, and thinking