future destinies of nations are influenced by the genius and actions of their founders, so are the talents and tempers of individuals determined, in a great measure, by the character of their relatives and associates, the lessons which they are taught, the amusements to which they are led, and in literature, above all, by the books which accident may cast in their way, but to which they attach themselves with spontaneous. and almost instinctive devotion. Nothing is trifling or insignificant in childhood, where every thing tends to form the future bias of an immortal mind, and every event that awakens a new emotion, is the certain forerunner of everlasting consequences. Such is the circumstance of Henry being accustomed, before he was six years old, to hear a certain damsel sing the affecting ballad of "The Babes in the Wood," and others, alluded to in the following lines of the poem above mentioned, written when he was not much more than twice that age.

"Many's the time I've scamper'd down the glade,
"To ask the promis'd ditty from the maid,

"Which well she loved, as well she knew to sing,
"While we around her form'd a little ring;
"She told of innocence foredoom'd to bleed,
"Of wicked guardians, bent on bloody deed,
"Of little children murder'd as they slept;
"While at each pause we wrung our hands and wept.
"Beloved moment! then 'twas first I caught
"The first foundation of romantic thought;

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"Then first that poësy charm'd mine infant ear:

"I hied me to the thick o'erarching shade." &c. &c.

The heart of any child would be touched by such ditties; but the future poet alone would retire into solitude, to meditate upon them.

From Mr. Southey's account we learn, that about the age of seven, Henry was not only a Scholar, but a Schoolmaster; for" he used to creep unperceived into the kitchen, to teach the servant to read and write." This girl appears to have been chief in his confidence; for to her alone he imparted "the tale of a Swiss emigrant," which was probably his first performance, being ashamed to show it to his mother. At this time he was a great reader, "I could fancy," says his eldest sister," that I see him in his little chair, with a large book upon his knee, and my mother calling, Henry, my love, come to dinner; which was repeated so often without being regarded, that she was obliged to change the tone of her voice before she could rouse him." What books be read we are not informed; but from some lines in the poem

of "Childhood," we find that he was acquainted, at an early age, with Spenser and Milton. Describing his evening walks with a school-companion, (for, from his sixth to his twelfth year, he attended the academy of a clergyman at Nottingham) he says,

To gaze upon the clouds, whose colour'd pride
Was scatter'd thinly o'er the welkin wide,
And tinged with such variety of shade,

To the charm'd soul sublimest thoughts convey'd.
In these what forms romantic did we trace,
While fancy led us o'er the realms of space;
Now we espied the thunderer in his car,
Leading the embattled seraphim to war;
Then stately towers descried, sublimely high,
In Gothic grandeur frowning on the sky-
Or saw, wide stretching o'er the azure height,
A ridge of glaciers in mural white,
Hugely terrific.'.

.Vol. I. p. 292.

Any eye might form towers and glaciers in the romantie clouds of evening; but the imagination of a poet alone, fired with the first perusal of Milton, could discern in them the battle-array of the seraphim, and the war in heaven. At this academy, nevertheless, it seems that he passed for a blockhead, among blockheads, who naturally enough concluded that he could not learn because they could not teach. He revenged himself in secret, by writing lampoons on them. Here, however, he remained six years; and mortifying indeed it must have been to the pride of genius, already quick and kindling within him, that "one whole day in the week, and his leisure hours on the others, were employed in carrying the butcher's basket, his father being determined to bring him up to his own trade." Henry was afterwards removed to another school in Nottingham, the master of which, being as wise as the old woman who taught him his letters, discovered his hidden talents, and communicated the joyful tidings to his affectionate mother, whom the false report of his former master had rendered very unhappy.

About this time he wrote the earliest of his published poems, "On being confined to School on a pleasant Spring Morning," which not only displays considerable talent, but proves that even then he, was well practised in the art of rhyming.

It was now resolved to bring him up to the hosiery business; and, at the age of fourteen, he was placed in a stockingloom, with the view of afterwards obtaining a situation in a warehouse. Here he was so miserably out of his element, that, after twelve months of continual repining on his part,

and remonstrance on that of his family, he was removed to an employment more suited to his aspiring mind. He was established in the office of Messrs. Coldham' and' Enfield, townclerks of Nottingham. Here, in addition to the exhausting labours and studies of the law, he employed his leisure hours. in acquiring a knowledge of the Greek, Latin, French, Italian, Spanish and Portuguese languages; in each of which he made considerable progress. Chemistry, astronomy, and electricity, were also numbered among his morning, noon, evening and midnight amusements. If time be computed by its occupation, he made a minute of every moment of his leisure, and every day added sensibly to his stock of knowledge. He was passionately fond of music, but had the prudence to refrain from dallying with that Syren art, which steals away the soul from more exalted employments. He had also a turn for mechanics; and most of the furniture of his little study was the workmanship of his own hands. His most delightful relaxation was the exercise of his powers of composition, both in prose and verse. His first essays in the former obtained for him several prizes, given by the proprietors of a Magazine, called "The Monthly Preceptor;" and his first flights in the latter soon gave him a distinguished rank among the periodical poets of the time in the Monthly Mirror." He likewise became a member of a literary society at Nottingham, and one evening astonished his brethren with a lecture on Genius, of two hours length, delivered extempore with great fervor and volubility. At that time he aspired to the bar, and thought it necessary to practise himself in public speaking.

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In the year 1803, he was emboldened, by the success of his fugitive pieces, to publish" Clifton Grove, and other Poems.” His anxieties and disappointments in pursuit of a patron, to give his work (what no work of genius ever wanted) the sanction of a splendid name, were at length rewarded with permission to dedicate it to the late Duchess of Devonshire; but permission was all that he ever obtained; and it was too dearly purchased by a copy of the poems in their " due morocco livery," which was sent to her Grace, but probably never reached her hands.

A frigid and superficial critique on these Poems, in one of the Reviews, almost broke the hopes and the heart of the author; but the friendship of Mr. Southey, which he acquired by this very circumstance, was an ample compensation for the anguish that he felt on this occasion. The following little piece will enable our readers to guess, whether the volume that contained it deserved harsh reprobation.

TO THE HERB ROSEMARY*.
Sweet scented flower! who art wont to bloom
On January's front severe :

And o'er the wintery desert drear

To waft thy waste perfume!

Come, thou shalt form my nosegay now,
And I will bind thee round my brow,

And as I twine the mournful wreath,
I'll weave a melancholy song,

An sweet the strain shall be, and long,
The melody of death.

Come, funeral flow'r! who lov'st to dwell
With the pale corse in lonely tomb,
And throw across the desert gloom
A sweet decaying smell,

Come press my lips, and lie with me
Beneath the lowly Alder tree,

And we will sleep a pleasant sleep,
And not a care shall dare intrude
To break the marble solitude,
So peaceful, and so deep.

And hark! the wind-god as he flies,
Moans hollow in the Forest trees,
And sailing on the gusty breeze
Mysterious music dies.

Sweet flower, that requiem wild is mine,
It warns me to the lonely shrine,

The cold turf altar of the dead;
My grave shall be in
yon lone spot,
Where as I lie, by all forgot,

A dying fragrance thou wilt o'er my ashes shed." Vol. I. p. 19 There is a tenderness of thought and expression in the last stanza, which, at this time, when the prophecy has been fulfilled, must touch the most insensible heart. It is remarkable that in many of poor Henry's pieces, written at different ages, there are strong and melancholy forebodings of an early death.

It was the author's fondest hope by this publication to attract friends, by whose assistance he might be enabled to quit the law (the study of which had become wearisome, since it was no longer likely to be profitable to him as a Barrister, on account of a deafness that was growing upon him), and to pursue his studies at one of the Universities, to qualify himself for the Ministry, to which his mind was now most ar

*The Rosemary buds in January-It is the flower commonly put in the coffins of the dead.

dently directed by an extraordinary spiritual change which took place in him about this period. Mr. Southey says,

I have stated that his opinions were, at one time, inclining towards deism; it needs not be said on what slight grounds the opinions of a youth must needs be founded: while they are confined to matters of speculation, they indicate, whatever their eccentricities, only an active mind; and it is only when a propensity is manifested to such principles as give a sanction to immorality, that they show something wrong at heart.' Vol. I. p. 27.

We quote this passage to protest against the plausible and insidious error at the end of it. Such opinions always indicate "something wrong at heart" they shew its natural deformity, and determined enmity against God. Genius, if not the child, is the nurseling of Pride: the youth, deeply conscious of possessing it, cherishes the "sacred and solitary feeling" with a jealousy that tolerates no rivalry; it is "the Divinity that stirs within him," and he worships it with a constancy and ardour of devotion that shame the lukewarmness and formality with which others serve the true God. Perhaps no youth, thus eminently gifted, ever passed the age of eighteen in a Christian country, who did not, at that sanguine period when man is most confident in his strength, because nost ignorant of his weakness, resist and reject the evidences of the glorious gospel of Christ, and exult in having discovered the truths of Infidelity in the darkness of the light of Nature. To such an one, the doctrine of the cross is not only "foolishness," as it is to the Greek," but "a stumbling block" also, as it is "to the Jew." It requires the sacrifice of all that is most dear to unregenerated man, and enjoins a humility of spirit, and a brokenness of heart, which is death to that mode of ambition that exists in the carnal mind. We do not say that this elevated feeling must be extinguished by the grace of God, any more than the other passions of our nature, which sin has corrupted; but, like them, it must be renewed in the converted sinner, and, from being an insatiable appetite for self-exaltation, it must become a fervent, unquenchable zeal for the glory of God.

Henry was in this perilous state, when the Rev. Mr. Pigott, a clergyman of Nottingham, with an amiable concern for his everlasting welfare, sent him "Scott's Force of Truth," which he received with supercilious indifference, telling the person who brought it, that he could soon write an answer to it; but when that person called upon him, about a fortnight afterwards, his answer was of a very different tone and temper,

He said, that to answer that book was out of his power, and out of any man's, for it was founded upou eternal truth; that it had convinced him of his error; and that so thoroughly was he impressed with a sense of the importance of his Maker's favour, that he would willingly give up all ac