Some of the Pieces in this volume have been separately published,
at different times; the indulgence, I may say favour,
with which they were individually received, has encouraged me
to collect and re-publish them. I have added many others,
which are now first printed. I shall be well satisfied, if they
find as favourable a reception as their precursors; and are
thought not to have increased the size, without at all increasing
the merit, of the book.
I cannot omit this opportunity of thanking those Critics,
who have honoured me by reviewing my verses. I owe them
my warm acknowledgments for candidly measuring my Poems
by their pretensions. They have looked at them as they really
were;--as the amusements of the leisure hours of a man
whose fortune will not favour his inclination to devote himself
to poetry; and conceiving a favourable opinion of them in
that character, have kindly expressed it.
_London, December, 1827._
During the progress of these pages through the press, it has
pleased Providence to inflict upon me the severest calamity that
domestic life can sustain. In the private sorrows of the humble
candidate for literary fame, I am aware that the world will feel
no interest, yet humanity will forgive the weakness that struggles
under such a bereavement, and will pardon the tear that falls
upon such a tomb. If, indeed, the Being who is lost to her family
and society were endowed only with those gifts and graces,
which are shared by thousands of her sex, I should have been
silent at this moment. To those who knew her,[1] and to know
her was to esteem and love, this tribute will be superfluous; but
to those who knew her not, I would say, that, superadded to
every natural advantage, to the charms of every polite accomplishment,
and to a cheerful and sincere piety, she was deeply
imbued with the love of literature and of science. In these, her
Lectures on the Physiology of the External Senses exhibit a
splendid proof of her acquirements in their highest walks, and
are an imperishable memorial of her patient and laborious research.
They who were present at the delivery of these Lectures
will not soon forget the effect of her impressive elocution,
chastened as it was by as unaffected modesty as ever adorned
and dignified a woman. I speak of that which she performed--that
which her capacious mind had meditated I forbear to mention.
For the advancement of her sex in pursuits that are intellectual
she made many sacrifices, both of her feelings and her
time; yet, in all she did, and in all she contemplated, usefulness
was her end and aim--but I must not proceed; less than this I
could not say--more than this might be deemed ostentatious.
What earthly tongue, and, oh! what human pen
Can tell that scene of suffering, too severe.
'Tis ever present to my sight, oh! when
Will the sound cease its torture on mine ear?
Oh! my lost love, thou patient Being, never!
Thy dying look of love can I forget;
The last fond pressure of thy hand, _for ever!_
Thrills in my veins, I see thy struggles yet.
Thy sculptured beauty is before me now:
In thy calm dignity, and sweet repose,
Alas! sad memory re-invests thy brow,
With death's stern agony, and pain's last throes.
Desolate heart be still--forgive, oh God!
The cries of feeble nature stricken sore.
Father! assuage the terrors of thy rod.
Teach me to see thy wisdom--and adore!
[Footnote 1: I cannot resist the melancholy gratification of quoting
from the Literary Gazette, of August 18, in which the death of Mrs. Gent
was announced to the public.--"Science has, since our last, suffered a
severe lost by the death of this accomplished lady; she was well known
for her high attainments as a Lecturer, and her Course on the Physiology
of the External Senses was a perfect model of elegant composition and
refined oratory. Mrs. Gent died at the residence of her husband, Thomas
Gent, Esq. Doctor's Commons, after a month of severe suffering, which
she bore with singular fortitude, and the most pious resignation. There
is a fine bust of her, by Behnes; it was in the Exhibition two years
since, and, from its intrinsic simplicity and beauty alone, has had many
casts made from it."
And one of the most distinguished Poets of the present day, will, I am
sure, forgive me if I quote his beautiful words in writing to me on
this subject--for his talents she had the highest admiration, and no
one was better able than himself to appreciate the excellence of her
character.--"As to condolence, I never condole--what condolence could
any one offer for the loss of so estimable a being as has been lost to
society in your accomplished wife? I had a very great respect and esteem
for her, and it would have highly gratified me to have been able to
lighten the least of her trials; but what avails writing or visiting on
occasions of such real pain. She lived a most amiable being--and for
such there is the highest hope in the Highest World. If I had conceived
that her illness was at all serious, I should have gone to gather wisdom
from her for my own hour--but now, that all her anxieties are past, I
can invent no condolence."]