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Religion heard no 'plainings loud,

The sigh in secret stole from thee; And pity, from the "dropping cloud,” Shed tears of holy sympathy.

Cold is that heart in which were met
More virtues than could ever die;
The morning star of hope is set-
The sun adorns another sky.

O partial grief! to mourn the day
So suddenly o'erclouded here,
To rise with unextinguish'd ray-
To shine in a superior sphere!

Oft genius early quits this sod,
Impatient of a robe of clay,

Spreads the light pinion, spurns the clod,
And smiles, and soars, and steals away!

But more than genius urged thy flight,

And mark'd the way, dear youth! for thee: Henry sprang up to worlds of light

On wings of immortality!

Blackheath Hill, 24th June, 1808.

SONNET TO HENRY KIRKE WHITE, ON HIS

POEMS LATELY PUBLISHED.

BY ARTHUR OWEN, ESQ.

HAIL! gifted youth, whose passion-breathing lay
Portrays a mind attuned to noblest themes,
A mind, which, wrapt in Fancy's high-wrought
dreams,

To nature's veriest bounds its daring way
Can wing what charms throughout thy pages
shine,

To win with fairy thrill the melting soul! For though along impassion'd grandeur roll, Yet in full power simplicity is thine.

Proceed, sweet bard! and the heaven-granted fire Of pity, glowing in thy feeling breast,

May nought destroy, may nought thy soul divest Of joy of rapture in the living lyre,

Thou tunest so magically: but may fame Each passing year add honours to thy name.

Richmond, Sept. 1803.

SONNET,

ON SEEING ANOTHER WRITTEN TO H. K. WHITE, IN
SEPTEMBER, 1803, INSERTED IN HIS " REMAINS."

BY ARTHUR OWEN, ESQ.

AH! once again the long left wires among,
Truants the Muse to weave her requiem song;
With sterner lore now busied, erst the lay
Cheer'd my dark morn of manhood, wont to stray
O'er fancy's fields in quest of musky flower;

To me nor fragrant less, though barr'd from view And courtship of the world: hail'd was the hour That gave me, dripping fresh with nature's dew, Poor Henry's budding beauties—to a clime Hapless transplanted, whose exotic ray

Forced their young vigour into transient day, And drain'd the stalk that rear'd them! and shall time

Trample these orphan blossoms?—No! they

breathe

Still lovelier charms-for Southey culls the wreath!

Oxford, Dec. 17, 1807.

REFLECTIONS ON READING THE LIFE OF THE LATE HENRY KIRKE WHITE.

BY WILLIAM HOLLOWAY, AUTHOR OF "THE PEASANT'S FATE."

DARLING of science and the muse,
How shall a son of song refuse

To shed a tear for thee?

To us, so soon, for ever lost,

What hopes, what prospects have been cross'd
By Heaven's supreme decree?

How could a parent, love-beguiled,
In life's fair prime resign a child
So duteous, good, and kind?
The warblers of the soothing strain
Must string the elegiac lyre in vain
To soothe the wounded mind!

Yet, Fancy, hovering round the tomb,
Half envies, while she mourns thy doom,

Dear poet, saint, and sage!

Who into one short span, at best,
The wisdom of an age compress'd,
A patriarch's lengthen'd age!

To him a genius sanctified,
And purged from literary pride,

A sacred boon was given:

Chaste as the psalmist's harp, his lyre
Celestial raptures could inspire,

And lift the soul to Heaven.

'Twas not the laurel earth bestows,
'Twas not the praise from man that flows,
With classic toil he sought:

He sought the crown that martyrs wear,
When rescued from a world of care;
Their spirit too he caught.

Here come, ye thoughtless, vain, and gay, Who idly range in Folly's way,

And learn the worth of time:

Learn ye, whose days have run to waste, How to redeem this pearl at last,

Atoning for your crime.

This flower, that droop'd in one cold clime, Transplanted from the soil of time

To immortality,

In full perfection there shall bloom;

And those who now lament his doom

Must bow to God's decree.

London, 27th Feb. 1808.

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