I now turn to the cause of these evils, and I find that the great root, the main spring is love of the world; next to that, pride; next to that, spiritual sloth.

[This Memorandum was written a very few weeks before his death.]

TRIBUTARY VERSES.

TRIBUTARY VERSES.

SONNET,

Addressed to H. K. White, on his Poems lately published

HENRY! I greet thine entrance into life!
Sure presage that the myrmidons of fate,
The fool's unmeaning laugh, the critic's hate,
Will dire assail thee; and the envious strife
Of bookish schoolmen, beings over rife,
Whose pia-mater studious is fill'd

With unconnected matter, half distill'd

From letter'd page, shall bare for thee the knife,
Beneath whose edge the poet oft-times sinks:
But fear not! for thy modest work contains
The germ of worth; thy wild poetic strains,
How sweet to him, untutor❜d bard, who thinks
Thy verse "has power to please, as soft it flows
Thro' the smooth murmurs of the frequent close."
G. L. C, 1803.

SONNET,

To Henry Kirke White, on his Poems lately published.

BY ARTHUR OWEN, ESQ.

HAIL! gifted youth, whose passion-breathing lay
Pourtrays a mind attun'd 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 heav'n-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 tun'st so magically: but may fame Each passing year add honours to thy name. Richmond, Sept. 1803.

TO MR. H. K. WHITE.

HARK! 'tis some sprite who sweeps a fun'ral knell
For Dermody no more.-That fitful tone
From Eolus' wild harp alone can swell,

Or Chatterton assumes the lyre unknown.