tured on matrimony, and accepted the curacy of Stathern in the vale of Belvoir.

After four years he procured an advantageous exchange of his livings for two others in Leicestershire. In 1814 he was presented by the Duke of Rutland to the living of Trowbridge in Wiltshire, whither he went to reside. In 1822 he visited Sir Walter Scott at Edinburgh. His was a green old age; "frosty but kindly." He died at Trowbridge, February 3rd, 1832. His chief works are "The Village” (1783); “The Parish Register" (1807); "The Borough " (1810); "Tales in Verse" (1812); "Tales of the Hall" (1819). The poems of Crabbe are remarkable for their realism, and their hard presentation of a benevolence that was yet above suspicion. Byron concisely and not unhappily describes him as "Nature's severest painter, yet the best."

HYMN.

O Thou! who taught my infant eye
To pierce the air and view the sky;
To see my God in earth and seas,
To hear Him in the vernal breeze;
To know Him midnight thoughts among:
Oh, guide my soul, and aid my song!

Spirit of Light, do Thou impart
Majestic truths, and teach my heart;
Teach me to know how weak I am,

How vain my powers, how poor my frame;
Teach me celestial ways untrod,-
The ways of glory and of God.

No more let me in vain surprise
To heathen art give up my eycō;
To piles laborious science reared,
For heroes brave, or tyrants feared;
But quit philosophy, and see

The Fountain of her works in Thee.

Fond man! yon glassy mirror eye;
Go, pierce the flood, and there descry
The miracles that float between
The rainy leaves of watery green;
Old Ocean's hoary treasures scan;
See nations swimming round a span.

Then wilt thou say-and rear no more
Thy monuments in mystic lore—
My God! I quit my vain design,
And drop my work to gaze on thine:
Henceforth I'll frame myself to be,
O Lord! a monument of Thee.

HENRY KIRKE WHITE, who, like Defoc and Akenside, was the son of a butcher, was born at Nottingham, March 21, 1785, and was destined by his father for the same business. He left this inglorious occupation to follow the employment of stocking weaving, which he deserted for the more ambitious duties of an attorney's office. But all this time his hopes pointed first to the bar, and in default of that to the church, as a profession; and in the midst of his ordinary pressing duties "he contrived to devote a portion of his time to the acquisition of considerable knowledge in the Greek, Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian languages; in astronomy and music; and learned to play the pianoforte." In his seventeenth year

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he secured the patronage of Capel Lofft, Esq., and of Mr. Hill, who encouraged him, in 1802, to publish his "Clifton Grove," and other poems. His hopes of realizing by this publication a sum sufficient to support him at the university, are said to have been "blasted by the malignant criticisms of the 'Monthly Review.' However, after some difficulty, he succeeded in satisfying the requirements of the Elland Society, which now charged itself with the expenses of his academical education. At Cambridge he distinguished himself by the excellence of his Latin verses; and by his success in obtaining college prizes, he was enabled to free himself from further pecuniary obligations to his patrons. Unfortunately he ruined a delicate constitution by his hard and unremittent reading, and died on the 19th of October. 1806.

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Besides the "Clifton Grove," Kirke White's most important production is the Christiad," an unfinished epic. There is little doubt that his premature and picturesque death served to invest his works with an interest that their excellence alone could not have commanded; and what has been taken merely for promise is very likely nearer to his sum of possible performance than his admirers would be readily willing to suppose.

THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM.

When marshalled on the mighty plain,
The glittering host bestud the sky;
One star alone, of all the train,

Can fix the sinner's wandering eye.

Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks,
From every host, from every gem;
But one alone the Saviour speaks,
It is the Star of Bethlehem.

Once on the raging seas I rode,

The storm was loud, the night was dark, The ocean yawned, and rudely blowed

The wind that tossed my foundering bark. ·

Deep horror then my vitals froze,
Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem;
When suddenly a star arose

It was the Star of Bethlehem.

It was my guide, my light, my all,
It bade my dark forebodings cease;
And through the storm and danger's thrall,
It led me to the port of peace.

Now safely moored-my perils o'er,
I'll sing, first in night's diadem,

For ever and for evermore,

The Star!-the Star of Bethlehem!

RESIGNATION.

Yes, 'twill be over soon. This sickly dream
Of life will vanish from my feverish brain;
And death my wearied spirit will redeem,
From this wild region of unvaried pain.
Yon brook will glide as softly as before,-

Yon landscape smile,-yon golden harvest grow,
Yon sprightly lark on mounting wing will soar,
When Henry's name is heard no more below.
I sigh when all my youthful friends caress,

They laugh in health, and future evils brave: Them shall a wife and smiling children bless, While I am mouldering in my silent grave. God of the just-Thou gav'st the bitter cup; I bow to thy behest, and drink it up.

HERBERT KNOWLES, a youthful poet, whose fame, like that of Wolfe, is almost entirely based upon a single poem, was born at Canterbury, in 1798. At the age of eighteen, he produced the following "fine religious stanzas, which, being published in the Quarterly Review,' soon obtained general circulation and celebrity; they have much of the steady faith and devotional earnestness of Cowper." Knowles died in the year 1817.

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"It is good for us to be here: if Thou wilt, let us make here three tabernacles; one for Thee, and one for Moses, and one for Elias."-MATT. xvii. 4.

Methinks it is good to be here,

If Thou wilt, let us build-but for whom?
Nor Elias nor Moses appear;

But the shadows of eve that encompassed with gloom,

The abode of the dead and the place of the tomb.

Shall we build to Ambition ? Ah no!

Affrighted, he shrinketh away;

For see, they would pin him below

In a small narrow cave, and, begirt with cold clay,
To the meanest of reptiles a peer and a prey.