are always of hopes, of consolation, and of love. To Neville he writes with the most brotherly intimacy, still, however, in that occasional tone of advice which it was his nature to assume, not from any arrogance of superiority, but from earnestness of pure affection. To his younger brother he addresses himself like the tenderest and wisest parent; and to two sisters, then too young for any other communication, he writes to direct their and studies, to enquire into their progress, to encourage, to improve them. Such letters as these are not for the public: but they to whom they are addressed will lay them to their hearts like relics, and will find in them a saying virtue, more than ever relics possessed.

his

With regard to his poems, the criterion for selection was not so plain; undoubtedly many have been chosen which he himself would not have published, and some few which, had he lived to have taken that rank among English poets, which would assuredly have been within his reach, I also should then have rejected among posthumous papers. I have, however, to the best of my judgment, selected none which does not either mark the state of his mind, or its progress, or discover evident proofs of what he would have been, if it had not been The reader, the will of Heaven to remove him so soon. who feels any admiration for Henry, will take some interest in all these remains, because they are his; he who shall feel none, must have a blind heart, and therefore a blind understanding. Such poems are to be considered as making up his history. But the greater number are

of such beauty, that Chatterton is the only youthful poet whom he does not leave far behind him.

While he was under Mr. Grainger, he wrote very little; and when he went to Cambridge, he was advised to stifle his poetical fire, for severer and more important studies; to lay a billet on the embers until he had taken his degree, and then he might fan it into a flame again. This advice he followed so scrupulously, that a few fragments, written chiefly upon the back of his mathematical papers, are all which he produced at the University. The greater part, therefore, of these poems, indeed nearly the whole of them were written before he was nineteen. Wise as the advice may have been which had been given him, it is now to be regretted that he adhered to it, his latter fragments bearing all those marks of improvement which were to be expected from a mind so rapidly and continually progressive. Frequently he expresses a fear that early death would rob him of his fame; yet, short as his life was, it has been long enough for him to leave works worthy of remembrance. The very circumstance of his early death gives a new interest to his memory, and thereby new force to his example. Just at that age when the painter would have wished to fix his likeness, and the lover of poetry would delight to contemplate him, in the fair morning of his virtues, the full spring blossom of his hopes,-just at that age hath death set the seal of eternity upon him, and the beautiful hath been made permanent. To the young poets who come after him, Henry will be what Chatterton was to

him; and they will find in him an example of hopes, with regard to worldly fortune, as humble; and as exalted in all better things, as are enjoined equally by wisdom and religion, by the experience of man, and the word of God. And this example will be as encouraging as it is excellent. It has been too much the custom to complain that genius is neglected, and to blame the public when the public is not in fault. They who are thus lamented as the victims of genius, have been, in almost every instance, the victims of their own vices; while genius has been made, like charity, to cover a multitude of sins, and to excuse that which in reality it aggravates. In this age, and in this country, whoever deserves encouragement, is, sooner or later, sure to receive it. Of this Henry's history is an honourable proof. The particular patronage which he accepted, was given as much to his piety and religious opinions, as to his genius; but assistance was offered him from other quarters. Mr. P. Thomson (of Boston, Lincolnshire), 'merely upon perusing his little volume, wrote to know how he could serve him; and there were many friends of literature who were ready to have afforded him any support which he needed, if he had not been thus provided. In the University, he received every encouragement which he merited, and from Mr. Simeon, and his tutor, Mr. Catton, the most fatherly kindness.

"I can venture," says a Lady of Cambridge, in a letter to his brother, "I can venture to say, with certainty, there was no member of the University, however high his

rank or talents, who would not have been happy to have availed themselves of the opportunity of being acquainted with Mr. Henry Kirke White. I mention this to introduce a wish, which has been expressed to me so often by the senior members of the University, that I dare not decline the task they have imposed upon me; it is their hope that Mr. Southey will do as much justice to Mr. Henry White's limited wishes, to his unassuming pretensions, and to his rational and fervent piety, as to his various acquirements, his polished taste, his poetical fancy, his undeviating principles, and the excellence of his moral character; and that he will suffer it to be understood, that these inestimable qualities had not been unobserved, nor would they have remained unacknowledged. It was the general observation, that he possessed genius without its eccentricities."

Of his fervent piety, his letters, his prayers, and his hymns, will afford ample and interesting proofs. I must be permitted to say, that my own views of the religion of Jesus Christ differ essentially from the system of belief which he had adopted; but, having said this, it is, indeed, my anxious wish to do full justice to piety so fervent. It was in him a living and quickening principle of goodness, which sanctified all his hopes, and all his affections; which made him keep watch over his own heart, and enabled him to correct the few symptoms, which it ever displayed, of human imperfection.

His temper had been irritable in his younger days, but

this he had long since effectually overcome: the marks of youthful confidence, which appear in his earliest letters, had also disappeared; and it was impossible for man to be more tenderly patient of the faults of others, more uniformly meek, or more unaffectedly humble. He seldom discovered any sportiveness of imagination, though he would very ably, and pleasantly, rally any one of his friends for any little peculiarity; his conversation was always sober, and to the purpose. That which is most remarkable in him, is his uniform good sense, a faculty perhaps less common than genius. There never existed a more dutiful son, a more affectionate brother, a warmer' friend, nor a devouter christian. Of his powers of mind it is superfluous to speak; they were acknowledged where ever they were known. It would be idle too, to say what hopes were entertained of him, and what he might have accomplished in literature. These volumes contain what he has left, immature buds, and blossoms shaken from the tree, and green fruit; yet will they evince what the harvest would have been, and secure for him that remembrance upon earth for which he toiled.

"Thou soul of God's best earthly mould,
Thou happy soul! and can it be

That these...

Are all that must remain of thee!"

Wordsworth.