I am conscious that, in venturing these few remarks, I have said just
enough to offend, and by no means sufficient to convince; for the limits
of a preface prevent me from entering into a justification of my opinions,
and I am committed on the subject as effectually as if I had written
volumes in their defence. My reader, however, is apprised of the very
cursory observation upon which these opinions are founded, and can easily
decide for himself upon the degree of attention or confidence which they
merit.
With respect to the poems in general, which occupy the following pages, I
know not in what manner to apologize to the public for intruding upon
their notice such a mass of unconnected trifles, such a world of epicurean
atoms as I have here brought in conflict together. To say that I have been
tempted by the liberal offers of my bookseller, is an excuse which can
hope for but little indulgence from the critic; yet I own that, without
this seasonable inducement, these poems very possibly would never have
been submitted to the world. The glare of publication is too strong for
such imperfect productions: they should be shown but to the eye of
friendship, in that dim light of privacy which is as favorable to poetical
as to female beauty, and serves as a veil for faults, while it enhances
every charm which it displays.
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