’Tis that, that gives the poet rage,
    And thaws the gelly’d blood of age;
    Matures the young, restores the old,
    And makes the fainting coward bold.

    It lays the careful head to rest,
    Calms palpitations in the breast. 
    Renders our lives’ misfortune sweet;

* * * * *

    Then let the chill Sirocco blow,
    And gird us round with hills of snow,
    Or else go whistle to the shore,
    And make the hollow mountains roar.

    Whilst we together jovial sit
    Careless, and crowned with mirth and wit,
    Where, though bleak winds confine us home,
    Our fancies round the world shall roam.

    We’ll think of all the Friends we know. 
    And drink to all worth drinking to;
    When having drunk all thine and mine,
    We rather shall want healths than wine.

    But where Friends fail us, we’ll supply
    Our friendships with our charity;
    Men that remote in sorrows live,
    Shall by our lusty brimmers thrive.

    We’ll drink the wanting into wealth,
    And those that languish into health,
    The afflicted into joy; th’ opprest
    Into security and rest.

    The worthy in disgrace shall find
    Favour return again more kind,
    And in restraint who stifled lie,
    Shall taste the air of liberty.

    The brave shall triumph in success,
    The lovers shall have mistresses,
    Poor unregarded Virtue, praise,
    And the neglected Poet, bays.

    Thus shall our healths do others good,
    Whilst we ourselves do all we would;
    For, freed from envy and from care,
    What would we be but what we are?

When I sate down to write this Preface, it was my intention to have made it more comprehensive; but, thinking that I ought rather to apologise for detaining the reader so long, I will here conclude.

* * * * *

DEDICATION:  PREFIXED TO THE EDITION OF 1815.

To Sir George Howland Beaumont, Bart.

MY DEAR SIR GEORGE,

Accept my thanks for the permission given me to dedicate these Volumes to you.  In addition to a lively pleasure derived from general considerations, I feel a particular satisfaction; for, by inscribing these Poems with your Name, I seem to myself in some degree to repay, by an appropriate honour, the great obligation which I owe to one part of the Collection—­as having been the means of first making us personally known to each other.  Upon much of the remainder, also, you have a peculiar claim,—­for some of the best pieces were composed under the shade of your own groves, upon the classic ground of Coleorton; where I was animated by the recollection of those illustrious Poets of your name and family, who were born in that neighbourhood; and, we may be assured,