By records of its glory,
Kept green on history’s sacred pages,
From now throughout the lapse of ages.
[ADIEU TO “MY DEAR FIVE HUNDRED.”]
We seldom see a preface in the back of a book, or a frontispiece in the middle, but as I have always been considered a little eccentric, I will make a new departure, and thank my indulgent readers here for their patient perusal of these pages. I locate these honeyed words in the rear as a reward of merit to any one that is martyr enough to reach them by the regular route, and those that have not energy and endurance enough to do so deserve to lose these chunks of wisdom and words of cheer. In the preceding poems are depicted sentiments to suit my changing moods; streaks of mirth and wails of misery; childhood’s mischief and woman’s woe; a mixture of ecstasy and agony, to suit “the gay or the grave, the lively or severe.” Now, should they fail to find a responsive echo in my readers’ hearts, then is “Othello’s occupation gone,” and I will fold my hands, dry my quill, dismiss my muse, and write no more.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources.