ADVERTISEMENT. January, 1777. HAVING lately seen in print some poems ascribed to me which I never wrote, and some of my own inaccurately copied, I thought it would not be improper to publish, in this little volume, all the verses of which I am willing to be considered as the author. Many others I did indeed write in the early part of my life; but they were in general so incorrect, that I would not rescue them from oblivion, even if a wish could do it. Some of the few now offered to the public would perhaps have been suppressed, if in making this collection I had implicitly followed my own judgment, But in so small a matter, who would refuse to submit his opinion to that of a friend? It is of no consequence to the reader to know the date of any of these little poems. But some private reasons determined the author to add, that most of them were written many years ago, and that the greatest part of the MINSTREL, which is his latest attempt in this way, was composed in the year one thousand seven hundred and sixty-eight. PREFACE TO THE MINSTREL. THE design was to trace the progress of a Poetical Genius, born in a rude age, from the first dawning of fancy and reason, till that period at which he may be supposed capable of appearing in the world as a Minstrel, that is, as an itinerant Poet and Musician;—a character which, according to the notions of our forefathers, was not only respectable, but sacred. I have endeavoured to imitate Spenser in the measure of his verse, and in the harmony, simplicity, and variety of his composition. Antique expressions I have avoided; admitting, however, some old words, where they seemed to suit the subject: but I hope none will be found that are now obsolete, or in any degree not intelligible to a reader of English poetry. To those who may be disposed to ask, what could induce me to write in so difficult a measure, I can only answer, that it pleases my ear, and seems, from its Gothic structure and original, to bear some relation to the subject and spirit of the Poem. It admits both simplicity and magnificence of sound and of language, beyond any other stanza that I am acquainted with. It allows the sententiousness of the couplet, as well as the more complex modulation of blank verse. What some critics have remarked, of its uniformity growing at last tiresome to the ear, will be found to hold true, only when the poetry is faulty in other respects. AH! who can tell how hard it is to climb The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar! Has felt the influence of malignant star, In life's low vale remote has pined alone, Then dropp'd into the grave, unpitied and unknown! IL And yet the languor of inglorious days, Not equally oppressive is to all; Him who ne'er listen'd to the voice of praise, The silence of neglect can ne'er appal. |