The Massachusetts spy, and Worcester County advertiser. [volume] ([Worcester, Mass.]) 1825-1831, 1825-11-23

destal, half concealed and shaded by
shrubbery. Around the garden are clas-
sic walks and cool retreats, where be
loved TO saunter. Upon a little open
and verdant area, stands an aged null
berry tree, which was planted and wa
tered by his own hand, while he was a
member of the college 1t is now tot
tering with infrmity; but It's decrepit-
ude is cherished with respect due TO-
its venerable age and its interesting orr
gin. Its trunk, in state of decay, is
carefully wrapped in sheet of lead,
and several props support IFS branches.
1t is now in full bearing, and we were
just 10 season 10 partake of its fruit
On our return from this pleasant walk
which was almost as lovely as the tirsl
happy pair used 10 take in Paradise, we
called at the Church-of All Saints, to
visit the tomb of Henry Kirk White.
He was buried in the chancel, under an
obscure and humble stone, bearing no
other inscription than his name. A year
or two since, one of our countrymen,
whose name could not be ascettained on
inquiring, visited the church on the same
errand as ourselves, and finding no mon
ument to the memory of a young man,
so highly esteemed for his talents and
virtues. directed white marble slab to
be placed upon the wall. ornamented
with a portrait, in relief, of the unfortu-
nate poet, and inscribed with the follow
ing lines -
" Worn with fond hope, and learning's sacred
fame,
To Granta's bowers the youthful poet came;
oneonqaerd powers tn immortal mind dis
But, worn with anxious thought, the frame de-
cay'd.
Pae Ger his lamp, and In his cell retir'd,
The martyr student faded and and expir'd.
Oh genius, taste, and piety sincere,
Too early lost midst studies too severe!
Foremost to mourn was gen'rous Southey seen
he told the tale, and shewd what WHITE had
been:
Nor told in vain, fer DER the Atlantic wave
wanderer came, and sought the poets grave.
On yon low stone, he saw his lonely name.
And rais'd this fond memorial to his fame. -
These lines were written by Mr.,
Walter Smyth of St. Johns College.
The tablet has no other inscription, ex-
cept the date Of Whites birth in Il 1856,
and of his death 10 1906. 1t was exc
cuted by Chantrey, who will probably
be able 10 inform us at whose expense
it was erected. Such liberal act, paw
ing just tribute to the genius aud
worth, made us proud Of our country.
After breakfast, we had long and
delightful ramble upon the banks of the
Cam. Our friend accidentally mentioning
favorite walk of the poet Gray, with
the original of bis "country church
yard" we pursued bye-path, some
times leading between hedge-rows of
hawthorn, and at others across meadows
and fields, until it conducted us to Grant
chester, a small village of great anti
guilty, at distance of mile and half
from Cambridge.
The " ivy mantled towers guided us
to the little church-yard, whittier GRAY
used to take solitary walk at morning
or evening, and whence he is said to
have derived the imagery of his exquis-
lite Elegy. Whether his muse CLEANED
her materials from this place or not, its
features exactly correspond with his de-
scrlpuon. Although it does not differ
essentially from other country church
yards, itsinteresting associations induced
us to examine il with minute attention.
1t is very old burying-ground, where
emphatically heaves the turf in many
Wondering heap" We sat down in the
shade of the church, upon the green sod
towering the graves, and repeated the
Elegy,apPlying its stanzas to the objects
around US. One part of the cemetry in
particular manner arrested our atten-
ton. 1t was little enclosure, planted
with the yew, the evergreen branches
OF which overhung the graves, and part
y concealed the marble monuments,
rose grew by its side, and was in full
bloom, its leaves and flowers informing
ling with the cypress. Many of the
tombstones in the church-yard are old
and rude, the dates extended back far
beyond the period, when the poet was
wont TO make this retreat the scene of
his evening rambles and solitary medi-.
latlons. There was a pleasure in the
reflection, that he had trodden the same
turf we were now treadlng, and had
paused to read the same Inscriptions, the
same " holy texts and uncouth rhymes.n
which have become scarcely legible,
overgrowD as they are with moss and
half obliterated by the hand of time.
No. XVIII.
DERBY. 25th AUGUST. 1925.