I Declare I hardly know how to say what justice to myself obliges me to say.—The public hears daily of so many unlucky Poets, who become publishers from the same fate that ranges me in their class, that I am apprehensive the truth, when told, will not serve me as an apology, but the effect of constraint be reputed the wish of presumption.

The course of my studies first gave me a taste for Poetry, and the sweetness of the art inspired me with an inclination to improve it.—The few who saw my verses [Page vi] said they liked them, and would some­times ask for a copy of what they had seen.—The first pleasure I know is to please; and indeed I thought complying with their requests an easy return for the obligation of their praise.—They had co­pies, and in their high opinion of me gave copies to others, who soon circulated some of my pieces, as particular favours to particular friends, through half a do­zen editions, of which three or four were generally very incorrect.

To prevent this evil from spreading, I have here collected in one small book those verses of which I have ever given [Page vii] copies, as far as remembrance and pos­session have permitted me.

All parents have a partiality to their own child—so every Writer has a par­tiality to the productions of his own brain, that would rather they were seen in a perfect than an imperfect situation— and when a man's writings must unavoid­ably be delivered into the hands of the public, a decent respect for his own cha­racter, and good manners to his fellow­creatures will oblige him to endeavour, as much as possiible, that they may not ex­cite a contempt for himself, nor be en­tirely useless and disgusting to his readers.

YORK, 1780.