ich demands
that we should sometimes call to our aid the trickery of surprise. Do
you publish with Lloyd, or without him? In either case my little portion
may come last, and after the fashion of orders to a country
correspondent, I will give directions how I should like to have 'em
done. The title-page to stand thus:--

POEMS

BY CHARLES LAMB, OF THE INDIA HOUSE.

Under this title the following motto, which, for want of room, I put
over-leaf, and desire you to insert whether you like it or no. May not a
gentleman choose what arms, mottoes, or armorial bearings the herald
will give him leave, without consulting his republican friend, who might
advise none? May not a publican put up the sign of the Saracen's Head,
even though his undiscerning neighbor should prefer, as more genteel,
the Cat and Gridiron?

[MOTTO.]

"This beauty, in the blossom of my youth,
When my first fire knew no adulterate incense,
Nor I no way to flatter but my fondness,
In the best language my true tongue could tell me,
And all the broken sighs my sick heart lend me,
I sued and served. Long did I love this lady." [1]
MASSINGER.

THE DEDICATION.

THE FEW FOLLOWING POEMS,
CREATURES OF THE FANCY AND THE FEELING
IN LIFE'S MORE VACANT HOURS,
PRODUCED, FOR THE MOST PART, BY
LOVE IN IDLENESS,
ARE,
WITH ALL A BROTHER'S FONDNESS,
INSCRIBED TO

MARY ANN LAMB,

THE AUTHOR'S BEST FRIEND ANB SISTER.

This is the pomp and paraphernalia of parting, with which I take my
leave of a passion which has reigned so royally (so long) within me;
thus, with its trappings of laureateship, I fling it off, pleased and
satisfied with myself that the weakness troubles me no longer. I am
wedded. Coleridge, to the fortunes of my sister and my poor old father.
Oh, my friend, I think sometimes, could I recall the days that are past,
which among them should I choose? Not, those "merrier days," not the
"pleasant days of hope," not "those wanderings with a fair-hair'd
maid," [2] which I have so often, and so feelingly regretted, but the
days, Coleridge, of a _mother's_ fondness for her _schoolboy_. What
would I give to call her back to earth for _one_ day, on my knees to ask
her pardon for all those little asperities of temper which from time to
time have given her gentle spirit pain. And the day, my friend, I trust
will come; there will be "time enough" for kind offices of love, if
"He