tended for the use of schools, are in a great degree idle and impertinent, and do but multiply books to no good end; by anticipating him, they deprive the reader of that pleasure which every one feels, and of that right which every one is entitled to, of judging for himself; but in obscure literature of a more remote period, the contents of which are strangely unequal, even where it is the wish of the editor to exhibit them entire, it is safer, previously to allure curiosity by select specimens of prominent excellence, than to run the risk of suppressing it totally by an indiscriminate and bulky republication of the whole for it not unfrequently happens on the first inspection of such works, in which the beauties bear no proportion to the defects, that by an unlucky sort of perverseness the reader is confronted with a dull passage, or perhaps a series of them, the volume is instantly laid aside, and with it every intention of a re-examination. In such cases, therefore, and in such only, selections seem eminently of use; and were it possible to obtain the opinions of the forgotten authors in question, there can be little doubt of their acquiescing in a revival of their works, however partial, rather than meet the horrors of perpetual oblivion. As far as relates to myself, I have avoided, as much as possible, touching those who have already justly obtained the distinction of being denominated our Older Classics*, who, though not

* As Chaucer, Shakspeare, Jonson, Milton.

universally either read or understood (as must ever be the case with the best elder writers in every country), are notwithstanding familiar to us in conversation, and constantly appealed to in controverted points of poetical taste: these I have studiously avoided, and confined myself in the general to some of the better parts of the unfortunate few who still remain unpopular, and of whom I may safely affirm, that they may find foils in many writers, who, through accident and partiality, still linger amongst the favourites of the day. There are not wanting those who consider works of this kind as taking very unjustifiable liberties with the deceased, and who think no good reason can be assigned to warrant the havoc that ensues in the formation of them: there is a specious kind of philanthropy in the argument, and, as such, it deserves attention. Let us for a moment recollect the fate of Cowley.

As the unnatural relish for tinsel and metaphysical conceit declined, his bays gradually lost their verdure; he was no longer to be found in the hands of the multitude, and untouched even in the closets of the curious: in short, the shades of oblivion gathered fast upon him. In consequence, however, of many detached parts of him which teem with the finest pictures of the heart, Bishop Hurd undertook his well

known edition, in which the most exceptionable poetry (that had operated like a mill-stone and sunk the rest) is omitted, and the generality of his charms preserved, he has now a dozen readers where before he had scarce one. To those who set a value on their hours, an accidental fascinating line, or a happy expression, is no compensation for the loss of them: for such readers, many authors must be mangled in order to be read; the cost of working some mines is more than the gold extracted will sometimes repay. Yet in thus playing the anatomist, every one who has sensibility must, more or less, feel a melancholy reluctance at rejecting too fastidiously; the very reflection that the writers of these works upon which we now calmly sit in judgment, have no longer the power of personally pleading for themselves; that the temporary supports of prejudice, patronage, and fashion, have long subsided for ever; that, in composing them, they might have forfeited their time, their fortune, and their health, and on many of those passages which we now by a random stroke of the pen deprive them of, might have fondly hoped to build their immortality, affords an irresistibly affecting specimen of the instability and hazard of human expectations. With the "disjecti membra Poeta" before me, let me be pardoned then if I have sometimes, as I fear I have, listened to the captivating whispers of mercy, instead of the cool dictates of unsentimental criticism often have I exulted to find an unexpected

and latent beauty, which on a first perusal had escaped me, that might countenance the preservation of a doubtful passage, which I had just doomed to its former oblivion. The end of a moralizing mood is too frequently nonsensical; yet is there not something that holds out a strong incentive to the love of fame and the cultivation of the mind, when we thus see its works, though shrouded by occasional depressions, yet resting on the rock of truth, insensible, as it were, to the lapse of time and the wrecks of years, and surmounting at last every impediment, while the body to which they belonged has for ages been the plaything of the winds, or hardened with the clod of the valley?

Let me conclude with an apology to my reader, which I am sorry to be under the necessity of making. In my endeavours to render these volumes worthy of attention, I have been thwarted by a situation peculiarly unfavourable to such pursuits: the repositories, museums, and libraries of the curious, from whence, and whence only, adequate materials are to be drawn, I have had no access to; a small private collection was my only resource, some few notices from the Ashmolean MSS. in Oxford being excepted For assistance received I am solely indebted to my very dear friend, Mr. William Benwell, of Trin. Coll. Oxon, whose ingenuity and kindness furnished me with many hints. Should I be so fortunate, however,

as to succeed in what is here offered to the Public, it is my intention to extend my plan to two additional volumes, which will include a variety of pieces in a less serious style; to the completion of which neither attention nor expense will be spared.

Had I given way to the temptation of enriching my work with specimens from Older Dramatic Authors, I must infallibly have enlarged my plan for their admission. They afford a field for selection, sufficiently wide of themselves, to form a complete work. I have, therefore, with the exception of two or three instances, totally avoided them.