The author, who is here brought back from the shades by the powerful wand of his editor, flourished in what is sometimes, though perhaps with no great propriety, called the Augustan Age of English Literature. From the memoirs prefixed to this republication, it appears, that Welsted was wantonly traduced, both as a gentleman and as a poet. Mr. Nichols has laudably endeavoured, and not without success, to restore to him the wreath of fame, of which he was purloined by his contemporaries. His pieces, though they bear evident marks of negligence, at the same time discover a sufficient portion of genius to deserve the pains which his editor has taken to rescue him from oblivion.... The sportive productions of this writer's pen are certainly the most valuable; several of them are well worth preserving.