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SWEET Annie built a bonnie ship

And set her on the sea,
The sails were a' of the damask'd silk,

The masts of silver free.
The gladsome waters sung below,

And the sweet wind sung above,
Make way for Annie of Lochroyan,

She comes to seek her love.
A gentle wind came with a sweep

And stretch'd her silken sail,

up there came a reaver rude,
With many a shout and hail.
“O touch her not, my mariners a',

Such loveliness goes free,
Make way for Annie of Lochroyan,

She seeks Lord Gregorie.”
The moon look'd out with all her stars,

The ship moved merrily on,
Until she came to a castle high,

That all as diamonds shone.
On every tower there stream'd a light,

On the middle tower shone three :-
“ Move for that tower, my mariners a',

My love keeps watch for me.”
She took her young son in her arms,

And on the deck she stood-
The wind rose with an angry gust,

The sea-wave waken'd rude.

open the door, Lord Gregory, love,
Oh open and let me in,
The sea-foam hangs in my yellow hair,
The surge dreeps down my

“ All for thy sake, Lord Gregory, love,

I've sail'd a perilous way,
And thy fair son is 'tween my breasts,

And he'll be dead ere day.
'The foam hangs on the topmost cliff,

The fires run on the sky;
And hear ye not your true-love's voice,

And her sweet babie's
Fair Annie turn'd her round about,

And tears began to flow,
May never a babie suck a breast

Wi a heart sae full of woe.
Take down, take down that silver mast,

Set up a mast of tree,
It disnae become a forsaken dame

To sail sae royallie.
“ Oh rede my dream, my mother dear-

I heard a sweet babe greet,
And saw fair Amnie of Lochroyan

Lie cauld dead at my feet."



And loud and loud his mother laugh’d,

“ Oh sights mair sure than sleep,
I saw fair Annie, and heard her voice,

And her babie wail and weep.”
0! he went down to yon sea-side

As fast as he could fare,
He saw fair Annie and her sweet babe,

But the wild wind toss'd them sair ;
" And hey Annie, and how Annie,

And Annie winna ye bide?”
But aye the mair he call’d Annie,

The broader grew the tide.
“ And hey Annie, and how Annie,

Dear Annie, speak to me?”
But aye the louder he cried Annie,

The louder roar'd the sea.
The wind wax'd loud, the sea grew rough,

The ship sunk nigh the shore,
Fair Annie floated through the foam,

But the babie rose no more.
Oh! first he kiss'd her cherry cheek,

And then he kiss'd her chin,
And syne he kiss'd her rosie lips,

But there was nae breath within.
“Oh! my love's love was true as light,

As meek and sweet was she-
My mother's hate was strong as death,

And fiercer than the sea.'



Henry Kirke White was born engaged in an employment so illat Nottingham, on the twenty-first suited to his temper and abilities, of March, 1785. His father, John, prevailed on his father, though not was a butcher; his mother, Mary without much difficulty, to fix him in Neville, was of a respectable family the office of Messrs. Coldham and in Staffordshire. Of the school- Enfield, attorneys in Nottingham. mistress, who taught him to read As his parents could not afford to and whose name was Garrington, pay a fee, he was in 1799) engaged he has drawn a pleasing picture in to serve for two years, and at the his verses entitled Childhood. At end of that term he was articled. about six years of age he began to Most of his time that could be spared learn writing, arithmetic, and French, from the duties of the office was, at from the Rev. John Blanchard; and the recommendation of his masters, when out of school was employed in spent in learning Latin, to which, of carrying about the butcher's basket. his own accord he added Greek, Some lines “On being confined to Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese. School one pleasant Summer Morn- Some knowledge of chemistry, asing," written at the age of thirteen, tronomy, electricity, and some skill by which time he had been placed in music and drawing, were among under the tuition of a Mr. Shipley, his other voluntary acquirements. are nearly equal to any he after- White was one of those, who feel an wards produced. Next year he was early and importunate craving for made to work at a stocking-loom, distinction. He had already been preparatively to his learning the bu- chosen member of a literary society siness of a hosier ; but his mother, in his native town; and soon after seeing the reluctance with which he his election, as Mr. Southey relates, " he lectured upon genius, and spoke. vinced him of his error; and that so extempore for about two hours, in thoroughly impressed was he with a such a manner, that he received the

sense of the importance of his Maker's unanimous thanks of the society, and favour, that he would willingly give they elected this young Roscius of up all acquisitions of knowledge, and Oratory their Professor of Litera- all hopes of fame, and live in a ture." He next became a writer in wilderness unknown till death, so several of the Monthly Miscellanies; he could ensure an inheritance in and (in 1803) put forth a volume of heaven.' In a subsequent correction poems. A few words of unfortunate of this statement, Mr. Southey incriticism in one of the Reviews, forms us that Scott's Force of Truth which in a few years more he would was put into his hands by his friend have learned to smile at, had nearly and fellow-pupil Mr. Almond, since crushed his hopes as an author; Rector of St. Peter's, Nottingham, when Mr. Southey, into whose hands with an entreaty that he would both the Review and the Poems peruse it at his leisure; that the themselves chanced to fall, generonsly book produced little effect, and was came to his relief. The protection of returned with disapprobation; but one so deservedly eminent could not that afterwards in a conversation with fail of affording him some comfort; Mr. Almond, he declared his belief though he still complained that “the with much vehemence and agitation. Review went before him wherever he This was soon after he had reached turned his steps, that it haunted him his eighteenth year. Maturer judgincessantly, and that he was per- ment « convinced him that'zeal was suaded it was an instrument in the to be tempered with discretion ; that hands of Satan to drive him to dis- the service of Christ was a rational traction."

service;' that a strong assurance 'was It is not usual to hear a poet, much not to be resorted to as the touchstone less a young poet, complaining that of our acceptance with God,' that it Satan is busied about his concerns. was not even the necessary attendant But his mind, which had before been of religious life;" as more experience disposed to scepticism, was now de- of his spiritual associates discovered termined with such force to an ex- to him that their professions of zeal treme of devotional feeling as scarcely were too frequently accompanied by to retain its due balance. In what want of charity; and that in matters manner the change was effected, it of religion, as in every thing else, is not very material to enquire ; but they “who feel the most, generally the different accounts which Mr. talk the least.” Southey has given of the matter ac- That even before his conversion, cording to the information he received as it is rather improperly called, he at different times, may serve to show was not without a sense of religious how little dependance is to be placed duty, may be inferred from his having on relations of this kind. At first he already chosen the Church as a protells us “ that Mr. Pigott, the curate fession in preference to the Law. To of St. Mary's, Nottingham, hearing this alteration in his plan of life he what was the bent of his religious might have been directed by a love opinions, sent him, by a friend, Scott's of study, or by the greater opportuForce of Truth, and requested him to nities held out to him of gratifying his peruse it attentively, which he pro- literary ambition ; but it is unreasonmised to do. Having looked at the able to suppose that he would have book, he told the person who brought voluntarily taken such a' measure, if it to him, that he would soon write his own conviction had run counter an answer to it; but about a fort to it. The attorneys to whom he night afterwards, when this friend was bound, were ready enough to enquired how far he had proceeded release him; since, though well in his answer to Mr. Scott, Henry's satisfied with his conduct and attenreply was in a very different tone and tion to their concerns, they perceived temper. He said, that to answer him to be troubled with a deafness that book was out of his power, and which would incapacitate him for the out of any man's, for it was founded practice of the law. The means of upon eternal truth; that it had con- supporting him at the University Dec. 1824.

2 R


were accordingly supplied by the him, that what he is most remarkliberality of the friends whom he had able for is his uniform good sense. gained ; and after passing a twelve- To Chatterton, with whom this zealmonth with the Rev. Mr. Grainger, ous friend and biographer has menof Winteringham, in Lincolnshire, tioned him, he is not to be compared. to prepare himself, he was in 1805 Chatterton has the force of a young entered a sizar of St. John's, Cam- poetical Titan, who threatens to take bridge. Here his application to books Parnassus by storm. White is a boy

so intense, that his health differing from others more in aptitude speedily sank under it. He was in- to follow than in ability to lead. The deed " declared to be the first man

one is complete in every limb, active, of his year;" but the honour was self-confident, and restless from his dearly purchased at the expense of own energy. The other, gentle, “ dreadful palpitations in the heart, docile, and animated rather than nights of sleeplessness and horrors, vigorous. He began, as most youthand spirits depressed to the very ful writers have begun, by copying depths of wretchedness.” In July, those whom he saw to be the objects 1806, his laundress on coming into of popular applause in his own day. his room at College, saw him fallen He has little distinct character of down in a convulsive fit, bleeding his own. We may trace him by and insensible. His great anxiety turns to Goldsmith, Chatterton, and was to conceal from his mother the Coleridge. His numbers sometimes state to which he was reduced. At offend the ear by unskilful combinathe end of September, he went to tions of sound, as in these linesLondon in search of relaxation and amusement; and in the next month, But for the babe she bore beneath her

breast; returned to College with a cough and

Andfever, which this effort had encreased. His brother, on being informed of While every bleaching breeze that on her

blows; his danger, hastened to Cambridge, and found him delirious. He reco

And sometimes, though more rarely vered sufficiently to know him for a they gratify it by unexpected sweetfew moments; but the next day sank ness. He could occasionally look into a stupor, and on the 19th of abroad for himself, and describe what October expired. It was the opinion

In his Clifton Grove there of his medical attendants, that if he are some little touches of landscapehad lived his intellect would have painting which are, as I think, unfailed him.

borrowed. He was buried in All-Saints' What rural objects steal upon the sight, Church, Cambridge, where his monument, sculptured by Chantrey, has The brooklet branching from the silver been placed by Mr. Francis Boott, a Trent, stranger from Boston in America.

The whispering birch by every zephyr bent, After his death all his papers were The woody island and the naked mead, consigned to the hands of Mr. The lowly hut half hid in groves of reed, Southey. Their contents were mul. The rural wicket and the rural stile, tifarious: they comprised observa- And frequent interspersed the woodman's tions on law; electricity; the Greek

pile. and Latin languages, from their ru- Among his poems of later date, diments to the higher branches of there is one unfinished fragment in critical study; on history, chrono- this manner, of yet higher beauty. logy, and divinity. He had begun three tragedies, on Boadicea, Ines Or should the day be overcast, de Castro, and a fictitious story; Where the hawthorn's branches spread

We'll linger till the show'r be past; several poems in Greek, and a trans- A fragrant cover o'er the head; lation of Samson Agonistes. The And list the rain-drops beat the leaves, selection which Mr. Southey has Or smoke upon the cottage eaves ; made, consists of copious extracts Or silent dimpling on the stream from his letters, poems, and essays. Convert to lead its silver gleam.

Mr. Southey has truly said of

he saw.


FRENCH SCHOOL OF PAINTING. Those who have visited Paris well filthy streets diverging from the Quai know the difficulty, not to say im- des Augustins, and pick out his way possibility, of acquiring accurate in- to the Rue de l'Ecole de Medicine. formation upon any subject what- I speak feelingly and experimentally ever, whether politics, literature, the" upon this subject, for well do I rearts, society, &c. In London, the member the better half of a valuable most perfect stranger requires no day lost in wandering from shop to guide beyond the daily newspapers, shop, in search of a work of some and periodical works, weekly, monthó note. By one bookseller assured, in ly, or quarterly, with which our coffee spite of the evidence of my own houses, booksellers' shops, and club senses, that no such work existed; by rooms abound; but should these another, that he believed it to be in even be silent upon any specified progress; by another, that, if pubpoint of public or private interest, lished, it must be out of print, for he we doubt whether there is a trades- had neither seen nor heard of it;man connected directly or indirectly it was only by persévering efforts with the point in question, who that I was at last fortunate enough would not afford the requisite infor- to run it to earth in its birth-place, mation, and put the inquirer in a in the remote recesses of Rue de la way to satisfy his curiosity. Not so Seine. The same difficulty exists in Paris ; an Englishman, well versed with regard to the Arts. David and in the language and manners of the Gerard are names tolerably familiar country and people, can only hope to the generality of our readers, but to attain his point at a very incon- it may be doubted whether many venient expense of time and trouble, (unless professed artists) know even and must even then often make up by name half a dozen of the seven his mind to vexation and disap- hundred and ninety painters, enpointment. Are his pursuits poli- gravers, sculptors, and architects, of tical ? the recent censorship has ex- whose works I am about to speak, tinguished the partial glimmering hoping and believing that in thus which heretofore existed; to the press saying I am not guilty of illiberality he therefore looks in vain; and the or prejudice towards my Gallic system of espionage has so com- friends ; for it is surely next to an pletely paralysed all colloquial free- impossibility that any well-informed dom, that it will be equally vain to foreigner should in this country be hope for information from the casual ignorant of the works or names of intercourse with such society as Lawrence, Beechey, Phillips, Wilkie, chance may throw in his way. In Callcott, Hilton, Chantrey, cum literature, he will find difficulties multis aliis. But in France, more nearly as insurmountable, connected, or less, it must be admitted as a geif not originating with the same neral axiom that the right hand

They are a talking, but ne- knoweth not what the left hand doeth cessity has denied them the power or (saving and excepting with all due pleasure of being a communicative deference the police, which knoweth people. Let an English traveller go well, and watcheth vigilantly over into a Parisian bookseller's shop, and the workings of every hand, and ask for the productions of the day; heart, and head, within its enfilure). should good fortune bring him in To other sources then must the tracontact with

ctual publisher of veller look for information; and, aca recent work, luat work will be cordingly, he will gratefully and joypresented, but, beyond this, he will fully hail the announcement of a hear nothing above the common rou- public exhibition, which will do what tine. On the Boulevard, or Palais a public press and public intercourse Royal, he will inquire in vain for ought, but does not. It had been works on Natural History or Sci- given out that at twelve o'clock, on ence; for these he must cross the the 25th of August, the long exriver, defile (in more senses than one pected day of the “ fête de St. Louis, the word is applicable) through the au Musée Royal des Arts," there



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