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discontinued; though the Tales and Poems alluded to were never printed in any former collection of his writings. From the facility with which Mr. Neele wrote, the ready kindness with which he complied with almost every entreaty, and his carelessness in keeping copies, it is, however, highly probable, that numerous minor Poems may yet remain in obscurity. It would, indeed, have been easy to have extended the present Volume, even very far beyond it's designed limits, but the failure of more than one similar attempt was a caution to warn from the quicksand on which they were wrecked: and to contract, rather than to extend, the boundaries previously prescribed. The Satire of the Reverend Author of " Walks in a Forest” bas, unluckily for it's objects, been but too frequently deserved :

“ When Genius dies,
I speak what Albion knows, surviving friends,
Eager his bright perfections to display
To the last atom, echo through the land
All that he ever did, or ever said,
Or ever thought:-
Then for his writings, search each desk and drawer,
Sweep his Portfolio, publish every scrap,
And demi-scrap he penn'd; beg, borrow, steal,
Each line he scribbled, letter, note, or card,

To order shoes, to countermand a hat,
To make enquiries of a neighbour's cold,
Or ask his company to supper. Thus,
Fools! with such vile and crumbling trash they build
The pedestal, on which at length they rear
Their huge Colossus, that, beneath his weight,
'Tis crush'd and ground; and leaves him dropt aslant,
Scarce raised above the height of common men!"

Here, then, this Introduction terminates. To those who loved him living, and who mourn him dead, these Remains of Henry Neele are dedicated; in the assured conviction that his Genius will long “ leave a mark behind,” and not without a hope that even this slight Memorial will serve

“ To pluck the shining page from vulgar Time,
And leave it whole to late Posterity.”

J. T.

November 20th, 1828.




The only notice requisite to introduce this Second Edition, is the expression of the EDITOR'S most unqualified gratification at the highly flattering reception of the First; and his very sincere acknowledgments for the truly unanimous approval, with which it was honoured by every criticism. To the friends of it's lamented Author, such posthumous praise cannot but be doubly welcome; and in this last memorial of a career so brilliant, though so brief, they must thus enjoy both a record and a consolation, never to pass away :

Long, long be each heart with such memories fillid!

Like a Vase in which roses have once been distillid ;-
You may break, you may ruin the Vase, if you will,
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.”

J. T. December 7th, 1829.

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