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Religion heard no 'plainings loud,

The sigh in secret stole from thee;
And pity, from the dropping cloud,'

Sheds 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 urg'd 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.

ON THE DEATH OF H. K. WHITE. Too, too, prophetic did thy wild note swell,

Impassion'd minstrel! when its pitying wail Sigh'd o'er the vernal primrose as it fell

Untimely, wither’d by the northern gale. * Thou wert that flower of primrose and of prime !

Whose opening bloom, 'mid many an adverse blast, Charm'd the lone wanderer through this desert clime, But charm’d him with a rapture soon o'ercast,

* See Clifton Grove, p. 26.

To see thee languish into quick decay.

Yet was not thy departing immature ?
For ripe in virtue thou wert reft away,
And
pure

in spirit, as the bless'd are pure ; Pure as the dew-drop, freed from earthly leaven, That sparkles, is exhaled, and blends with heaven!+

T. PARK.

+ Young, I think, says of Narcissa, 'she sparkled, was exhaled, and went to heaven.'

END OF POETICAL REMAINS.

LETTERS.

TO HIS BROTHER NEVILLE. DEAR BROTHER,

Nottingham, Sept. 1799. In consequence of your repeated solicitations, I now sit down to write to you, although I never received an answer to the last letter which I wrote, nearly six months ago; but, as I never heard you mention it in any of my mother's letters, I am induced to think it has miscarried, or been mislaid in your office.

It is now nearly four months since I entered into Mr. Coldham's office; and it is with pleasure I can assure you, that I never yet found any thing disagreeable, but, on the contrary, every thing I do seems a pleasure to me, and for a very obvious reason,-it is a business which I like-a business which I chose before all others; and I have two good-tempered, easy masters, who will, nevertheless, see that their business is done in a neat and proper manner. The study of the law is well known to be a dry, difficult task, and requires a comprehensive, good understanding; and I hope you will allow me (without charging me with egotism) to have a tolerable one; and I trust with perseverance, and a very large law library to refer to, I shall be able to accomplish the study of so much of the laws of England, and our system of jurisprudence, in less than five years, as to enable me to be a country attorney; and then as I shall have two more years to serve, I hope I shall attain so much knowledge in all parts of the law, as to enable me, with a little study at the inns of court, to hold an argument on the nice points in the law with the best attorney in the kingdom. A man that understands the law is sure to have business; and in case I have no thoughts, in case that is, that I do not aspire to hold the honourable place of a barrister, I shall feel sure

of gaining a genteel livelihood at the business to which I am articled.

I attend at the office at eight in the morning, and leave at eight in the evening; then attend my Latin until nine, which, you may be sure, is pretty close confinement.

Mr. Coldham is clerk to the commercial commissioners, which has occasioned us a deal of extraordinary work. I worked aïl Sunday, and until twelve o'clock on Saturday night, when they were hurried to give in the certificates to the bank. We had also a very troublesome cause last assizes—the Corporation versus Gee, which we (the attorneys for the corporation) lost. It was really a very fatiguing day (I mean the day on which it was tried). I never got any thing to eat, from five in the afternoon the preceding day, until twelve the next night, when the trial ended.

TO HIS BROTHER NEVILLE.

DEAR BROTHER,

Nottingham, 26th June, 1800.

My mother has allowed me a good deal lately for books, and I have a large assortment (a retailer's phrase). But I hope you do not suppose they consist of novels ;no-I have made a firm résolution never to spend above one hour at this amusement. Though I have been obliged to enter into this resolution in consequence a vitiated taste acquired by reading romances, I do not intend to banish them entirely from my desk. After

of

long and fatiguing researches in Blackstone or Coke, when the mind becomes weak, through intense application, Tom Jones, or Robinson Crusoe, will afford a pleasing and necessary relaxation.

Apropos--now we are speaking of Robinson Crusoe, I shall oli ve, that it is allowed to be the best novel for youth in the English language. De Foe, the author, was a singular character; but as I make no doubt you

have read his life, I will not trouble you with any farther remarks.

The books, which I now read with attention, are Blackstone, Knox's Essays, Plutarch, Chesterfield's Letters, four large volumes, Virgil, Homer, and Cicero, and several others. Blackstone and Knox, Virgil and Cicero, I have got; the others I read out of Mr. Coldham's library. I have finished Rollin's Ancient History, Blair's Lectures, Smith's Wealth of Nations, Hume's England, and British Nepos, lately. When I have read Knox, I will send it you,

and recommend it to your attentive perusal; it is a most excellent work. I also read now the British Classics, the common edition of which I now take in; it comes every fortnight; I dare say you have seen it; it is Cooke's edition. I would recommend

you

also to read these; I will send them to you. I have got the Citizen of the World, Idler, Goldsmith's Essays, and part of the Rambler. I will send you soon the fourth number of the Monthly Preceptor. I am noticed as worthy of commendation, and as affording an encouraging prospect of future excellence.—You will laugh. I have also turned poet, and have translated an Ode of Horace into English verse, also, for the Monthly Preceptor, but, unfortunately, when I sent it, I forgot the title, so it won't be noticed.

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