Preface.
The author of the present volume has had for many years an intense and almost insuperable bias towards poetical composition. This has often been restrained rather than encouraged; but particular circumstances, that need not here be detailed, have from time to time compelled to the cultivation of the propensity, and made him desirous of striking out, if possible, a path into the literary world, or at least trying to ascertain his real strength in that arena. Nearly twelve years ago the poem of “Welton Dale” was written for such a purpose; but a want of self-confidence, and a perhaps unnecessary fear of unfair and severe criticism, acting on a sensitive temperament, caused it to be withheld from publication. As stated in the preface, its recent issue resulted from a conversation with the Hull Publisher, having especial regard to the printing of the present work; but had it been foreseen, at the time of writing, that it would have met with such a favourable reception as it has so far done, undoubtedly it then would have been given to the public.
This book was mainly written, and is issued solely as an experiment, to see how far criticism and public feeling may adjudge the author to possess poetic talents, which, if properly cultivated andassiduously applied, might be capable of producing works of a useful character and beneficial tendency. Fame is a secondary consideration with him, and he only desires it as an indicator that another sphere of usefulness and suitable occupation may be before him; for he has the feeling strongly, that if this publication should in whole, or in part, meet with encouragement, approval, and hopeful criticism, he should perhaps not be very long in producing something of a higher and more permanent character. The origin of “Christmas at the Hall” was simply a desire to link together into one piece, a few separate poems on different topics and in different metres, so as to manifest versifying acquirements; and it was thought this might be done in the form of a Christmas family party, as well as in any other mode. It was begun at the close of last September, and amid many interruptions, concluded at the commencement of the present year; but when the first half dozen pages were written, the author was as little aware of precisely what would follow as the reader will be when he has proceeded no further. “The Hero’s Grave” also was written during that period, and intended to be done, a considerable time before the Laureat issued his Ode on the same subject, or it was even thought that other writers would be sure to take up the theme. The series of sea-pieces commencing with “Dane’s Dyke,” were composed during the early part of last autumn, and “Night Musings,” nearly a year previously; shortly after which the other small pieces alluding to Christmas, and several of the sacred poems were written. Thus it will be seen that the chief bulk of the volume is of recent composition; but the rest of the pieces bear various dates, one or two of them going so far backas almost twenty years. Considerable time and diligence have been expended in revising the whole whilst passing through the press; but most probably some typographical and minor errors have escaped notice, which may be avoided in future, should the writer happily be called upon to gain yet further experience in authorship.
In the lower grades of nature, instincts and propensities seldom miss of their aim and accomplishment. But with man this is not always the case; and therefore the author places little confidence in those deep yearnings and instinctive longings to be a poet, which from time to time have, uncalled for, possessed his mind; particularly as in other things during past life, he has had to experience, like many other people, much disappointment, and much of that “hope deferred which maketh the heart sick.” It is not often that he has given utterance to these aspirings, and the only three pieces set apart to them ever composed, are inserted together, under a full confidence that they will not be mis-read, but taken in the spirit intended. The last one, “Love of the Lyre,”page 176, originated thus:—The writer was seated in Dane’s Dyke one “balmy day of” August “weather,” composing the lines that bear that name, when so pleasing, so congenial was the occupation to his inmost nature, that he could not but turn aside from the work, and give utterance to the new feelings prompted—the little piece literally burst forth from him. The remark may be needless, but the lines on Wilderspin were composed long before the writer had any notion of possessing that relationship to him which he now so happily holds; and he sees no grounds in this for suppressing them. They were atribute, during the early period of first acquaintanceship, which but feebly conveyed the deep sense then entertained of the excellence of his improvements in education, as shewn in his “Infant System,” and his arduous and devoted labours in furthering them as recorded in the “Early Discipline.”
In conclusion, if I am not worthy to follow, even at a great distance, in the wake of those
“Bards triumphant born in happier days,”
“Bards triumphant born in happier days,”
“Bards triumphant born in happier days,”
“Bards triumphant born in happier days,”
I have no wish to do so; but if the present volume merits encouragement, and still further, if it offers hope and expectation for the future, I trust such will be given me, so that I may have firmer grounds for devoting myself diligently and assiduously to the Muse, in order, if possible, to rise to something better,—a work that would, indeed be to me, a “labour of love.”
Lister-Street, Hull, March, 1853.