man's scorn; And what o'er all does in his soul preside Predominant, and tempers him to steel, His high indignant pride." Nor was he unconscious that the toils necessary to secure literary distinction, when endured by a shattered frame, are in the highest degree severe. How much truth and feeling are there in the Lines which he wrote after spending a whole night in study, an hour when religious impressions force themselves with irresistible weight on the exhausted mind: CONTENTS "Oh! when reflecting on these truths sublime, How insignificant do all the joys, The gaudes, and honours of the world appear! How vain ambition!—Why has my wakeful lamp Out watch'd the slow-paced night?—Why on the page, The schoolman's labour'd page, have I employ'd The hours devoted by the world to rest, And needful to recruit exhausted nature? Say, can the voice of narrow Fame repay The loss of health? or can the hope of glory Lend a new throb unto my languid heart, Cool, even now, my feverish aching brow, Relume the fires of this deep sunken eye, Or paint new colours on this pallid cheek?" What a picture of mental suffering does the following passage present, and how impressive does it become when the fate of the author is remembered: CONTENTS "These feverish dews that on my temples hang, This quivering lip, these eyes of dying flame; These, the dread signs of many a secret pang— These are the meed of him who pants for Fame!" Like so many other ardent students, the night was his favourite time for reading; and, dangerous as the habit is to health, what student will not agree in his descriptions of the pleasures that attend it? CONTENTS "The night's my own, they cannot steal my night! When evening lights her folding star on high, I live and breathe; and, in the sacred hours Of quiet and repose, my spirit flies, Free as the morning, o'er the realms of space, And mounts the skies, and imps her wing for heaven." Kirke White's poetry is popular, because it describes feelings, passions, and associations, which all have felt, and with which all can sympathize. It is by no means rich in metaphor, nor does it evince great powers of imagination; but it is pathetic, plaintive, and agreeable; and emanating directly from his own heart, it appeals irresistibly to that of his reader. His
Prev.
Back
Top