PREFACE. THE poetry and tales constituting the main part of the present volume, need no apology or introduction. Most of them were finished for publication by the author.* But in reference to the biographical sketch which precedes them, a few words will not be out of place. A life so private afforded but few materials. Incidents of early days, tending to illustrate the bent and development of his powers, are derived from memoranda in Mr. Roby's own handwriting, or from well-remembered conversations. The absence of that unconscious self-portraiture, which a man's own letters present, will be found supplied, to some extent, by short reminiscences, kindly furnished by friends. The memoir is not offered as a complete biography. It is simply an outline of a literary life, and of a character; the one as varied in its aspect, as the other was uniform in its tenor. That part of the life which fell under the writer's own observation, has of necessity been dwelt The recovery of Mr. Roby's papers from the wreck of the Orion, June, 1850, when God, in His inscrutable providence, cut short a life so incomparably precious, was even then matter of thankfulness. Many portions of the MS., from which the legends in this volume were printed, bear traces of the sad catastrophe. on most at length, and she fears lest too much prominence may at times have been given to what is personal to herself, and the double life be thus too strongly shown. Yet the shadow that brings out the principal object will scarcely be censured. No one can feel so deeply as herself the inadequacy of her talents to the subject. To one qualification alone she may lay claim, without fear of the charge of presumption, "that of the seeing heart," without which it has been truly said, "no true seeing for the head is so much as possible. The writer will esteem herself happy if, with all the imperfections of detail, she shall, in a measure, have succeeded in her aim. That aim has been to gather up, with a loving reverence, the scattered products of her husband's pen, by which the reader may estimate his powers, and to present a faithful mental portrait of one, with whom the pursuit of literature was no bar to the discharge of ordinary duties, and whose gifts were the Lares and Penates of his own fireside, -one who, as time advanced, learned the secret of self-renunciation and spiritual obedience, and having "left this life for a better," still, lives "in memory here," as a man of genius and a Christian. December, 1853. E. R. R. WEEP NO MORE, WOFUL SHEPHERDS, WEEP No more, FOR LYCIDAS YOUR SORROW IS NOT DEAD, SUNK THOUGH HE BE BENEATH THE WATERY FLOOR; AND YET ANON REPAIRS HIS DROOPING HEAD, AND TRICKS HIS BEAMS, AND WITH NEW-SPANGLED ORE FLAMES IN THE FOREHEAD OF THE MORNING SKY; SO LYCIDAS SUNK LOW, BUT MOUNTED HIGH, THROUGH THE DEAR MIGHT OF HIM THAT WALK'D THE WAVES, WHERE OTHER GROVES, AND OTHER STREAMS ALONG, WITH NECTAR PURE HIS OOZY LOCKS HE LAVES, AND HEARS THE UNEXPRESSIVE NUPTIAL SONG, MILTON. |