Sarah Frowd 17741774

Female Advocate;

A Poem.

Price Two Shillings.

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Female Advocate;

A Poem.

Occasioned by Reading
Mr. Duncombe’s Feminead.

Self prais’d, and grasping at despotic pow’r,

Man looks on slav’ry as the female dow’r;

To nature’s boon ascribes what force has giv’n,

And usurpation deems the gift of Heav’n.


By Miss Scott.

Printed for Joseph Johnson, No. 72, St. Paul’s Church-Yard.

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To A Lady.

As it was in compliance with my Dear Miss ――’s Steeles request this little Essay was finished, to her alone can it now with propriety be inscribed.

Mr. Duncombe’s Feminead you and I have often read with the most grateful pleasure; and undoubtedly you remember, that we have also regretted that it was only on a small number of Female Geniuses that Gentleman bestowed the wreath of Fame; and have wished to see those celebrated whom he omitted, as well as those who have obliged the world with their literary productions, since the publication of his elegant Poem.

Being too well acquainted with the illiberal sentiments of men in general in regard to our sex, and prompted by the most fervent zeal for their privileges, I took up the pen with an intention of becoming their advocate; but thinking myself unequal to the task, it was quickly laid aside, and probably never would have been resumed,sumed, A3v vi sumed, had not your partiality to the Author led you to have been pleased with the specimen which you saw.

It may perhaps be objected that it was unnecessary to write on this subject, as the sentiments of all men of sense relative to female education are now more enlarged than they formerly were. I allow that they are so; but yet those of the generality (of men of sense and learning I mean, for it would be absurd to regard the opinions of those who are not such) are still very contracted. How much has been said, even by writers of distinguished reputation, of the distinction of sexes in souls, of the studies, and even of the virtues proper for women? If they have allowed us to study the imitative arts, have they not prohibited us from cultivating an acquaintance with the sciences? Do they not regard the woman who suffers her faculties to rust in a state of listless indolence, with a more favourable eye, than her who engages in a dispassionate search after truth? And is not an implicit acquiescence in the dictates of their understandings, esteemed by them as the sole criterion of good sense in a woman? I believe I am expressing myself with warmth, but I cannot help it; for when I speak, or write, on this subject, I feel an indignation which I cannot, and which indeed I do not wish to suppress: It has folly and cruelty for its objects, and therefore must be laudable; folly, because if there really are those advantages resulting from a liberal education which it is insinuated they have derived from thence, the wider those A4r vii those advantages are diffused, the more will the happiness of society be promoted: And if the pleasures that flow from knowledge are of all others the most refined and permanent, it surely is extreme barbarity to endeavour to preclude us from enjoying them, when they allow our sensations to be far more exquisite than their own. But I flatter myself a time may come, when men will be as much ashamed to avow their narrow prejudices in regard to the abilities of our sex, as they are now fond to glory in them. A few such changes I have already seen; for facts have a powerful tendency to convince the understanding; and of late, Female Authors have appeared with honour, in almost every walk of literature. Several have started up since the writing of this little piece; the public favour has attested the merit of Mrs. Chapone’s Letters on the Improvement of the Mind; and of Miss More’s elegant Pastoral Drama, intituled, A Search after Happiness. Poems by Phillis Wheateley, a Negro Servant to Mr. Wheateley of Boston; and, Poems by a Lady, printed for G. Robinson in Pater-noster-row, lately published, also possess considerable merit.

If I should be thought to have spoken with severity of men in general, I flatter myself I have not suffered one line to escape me, that can give pain to those of a more liberal turn of mind: For such, my heart feels all the esteem due to their exalted worth: They will approve of my design: And did they know how much, 2 years A4v viii years of ill health have impaired every faculty of my mind, it might perhaps lead them to be favourable in their censures on the execution. My ear will I hope ever be attentive to the dictates of the candid Critic; but, I also hope I have spirit enough to despise the sneers of the narrow-minded Pedant.

But zealous as I really am in the cause of my sex, yet I would not be understood to insinuate that every woman is formed for literature: the greatest part of both sexes, are necessarily confined to the business of life. All I contend for is, that it is a duty absolutely incumbent on every woman whom nature hath blest with talents, of what kind soever they may be, to improve them; and that that is much oftener the case than it is usually supposed to be. As to those Ladies whose situation in life will not admit of their engaging very deep in literary researches, it surely is commendable in them, to employ, part at least of, their leisure- hours, in improving their minds in useful knowledge: the advantages of an understanding in any degree cultivated, are too obvious to need pointing out.

I am, with the sincerest regard, My Dear Miss, Steele, Your most obliged friend,

Mary Scott.


The Female Advocate.

Now, big with storms, rough winter issues forth

From the cold bosom of his parent North;

Now, scarce a flow’ret rears its beauteous head

Above the surface of its native bed;

Stripp’d of its foliage, the late verdant grove,

No more invites my devious feet to rove:

How shall I soothe the anguish of a heart,

Yet bleeding from affliction’s poignant dart?

B A heart B1v 2

A heart that long, alas, hath ceas’d to glow,

Dead to each hope of happiness below!

Propitious come, ye fair Aonian maids,

And guide a wanderer to your hallow’d shades;

O, wrap me in your solitary cells

Where Silence reigns, and Inspiration dwells!

For once this tasteless apathy controul,

And wake each sprightly passion of my soul.

But say what theme shall sportive Fancy chuse,

Since nature’s charms no more delight the Muse?

What theme! and can it then a doubt remain

What theme demands the tributary strain,

Whilst Lordly Man asserts his right divine,

Alone to bow at wisdom’s sacred shrine;

With tyrant sway would keep the female mind

In error’s cheerless dark abyss confin’d?

Tell what bright daughters Britain once could boast,

What daughters now adorn her happy coast.

In B2r 3

In ages past, when learning’s feeble ray

First shone prophetic of a brighter day,

The female bosom caught the sacred flame,

And on her eagle-pinion soar’d to fame.

Emerging from the gloom of mental night,

Illustrious Parr Catherine Parr, daughter of Sir Thomas Parr of Kendall, and the sixth and last wife to King Henry VIII. She enjoyed the advantages of a liberal education, and was a woman of great sense, singular prudence, and a most strenuous friend to the reformation; which she studied to promote to the extent of her power. She frequently argued with the King on the subject of Religion, and urged him, as he had already separated from the See of Rome, to accomplish the glorious work he had begun; and thoroughly to refine the Church from the remains of superstition that still contaminated it. Impatient as Henry was of controul, such was his opinion of her worth, and such the affection he bore to her person, that he seldom betrayed the least indications of disgust at her freedom. She was very assiduous in studying the Sacred Writings, and books of Divinity, and occasionally had Sermons preached to herself, and such of the ladies of her bed-chamber as chose to be present, by several eminent Protestant divines, whom she retained in the character of Chaplains: for she dared to be the patroness of truth at a time when its professors were exposed to the utmost danger: After her death a discourse of her’s, found amongst her papers, was published, intituled, Queen Catharine Parr’s Lamentations of a Sinner, bewailing the Ignorance of her blind Life. first rose divinely bright,

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An instrument in Heav’n’s o’er-ruling hand,

To succour truth, and bless a guilty land,

The rage of superstition to controul,

And chase the mists of error from the soul.

Next beauteous Dudley Lady Jane Grey, wife to Lord Guildford Dudley. Her virtues, learning, and sufferings, are so well known, that it would be impertinent to particularize them. rose to grace the stage,

The pride and wonder of her sex and age!

Low bending at the radiant shrine of truth,

Her soul renounc’d the idle toys of youth:

Impell’d by nobler fires, she boldly soar’d,

And every science, every art explor’d:

Religion in its purest form array’d,

Her tongue, her manners, and her pen See her letter to Mr. Harding, her Father’s Chaplain, after his renunciation of the Protestant faith; and letters to her father and sister, in the 3d vol. of Fox’s Ecclesiastical History. display’d.

1 Rais’d B3r 5

Rais’d to the splendid burden of a crown,

But soon compell’d to lay that burden down,

Torn sudden from a husband, from a throne,

’Twas then the heroine, then the Christian shone!

Her steady soul fate’s fiercest frown could brave,

Secure of lasting bliss beyond the grave!

O Faith, whose sacred transports never cloy,

Sweet prelibation of immortal joy!

What proud Philosophy but aims to preach,

’Tis thine with energy divine to teach:

Inspir’d by thee, we learn to smile at pain,

And all the vanities of life disdain;

Can calmly meet the sudden stroke of fate,

Or wait, if Heav’n approves, a longer date;

Convinc’d, howe’er Eternal Truth decides,

A parent’s love still o’er our weal presides.

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And thou, with nature’s noblest gifts endu’d,

(Whom rival Kings with eyes of envy view’d,)

Eliza! Queen Elizabeth. Britain’s ever-fav’rite name,

How vain the Muse’s wish to speak thy fame!

Long, hid beneath the specious mask of zeal,

Had bigot rage destroy’d the public weal;

Red with the blood of martyr’d saints, the land

Implor’d relief from Heav’n’s benignant hand:

Heav’n heard her cries, beheld her flowing tears,

And sent Eliza to avert her fears;

Again, Religion rear’d her radiant head,

And all around her sacred influence spread.

To wisdom early train’d by adverse fate,

Eliza knew to guide the helm of state;

Twas her’s to check the haughty power of Spain,

And faction strove against her life in vain.

Studious by each endearing art to prove,

Her conduct worthy of her peoples’ love,

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Yet would she from those glorious cares descend,

And with the Muse The ingenious Dr. Percy, in his Reliques of antient English Poetry, hath obliged the world with two or three Poems written by Queen Elizabeth. her vacant moments spend:

Well spoke her verse her great undaunted soul,

Which, form’d for empire, scorn’d to brook controul.

Mores, Seymours, Cokes, Three daughters of Sir Thomas More, Margaret, Elizabeth and Cicely; all women of great talents and learning: But Margaret (wife to Mr. Roper of Eltham in Kent) seems to have been the most distinguished. She was a perfect mistress of the Greek and Latin tongues. She wrote two Latin Orations; and a Treatise of the Four Last Things, with so much fervor of devotion, and strength of reasoning, that her father declared it to be a better performance, than a discourse of the same nature written by himself. She also well understood Musick and Mathematics, and was complimented by the greatest men of the age, on account of her learning and accomplishments. She had a daughter little inferior to herself in Genius and Learning, who translated into English part of a Latin work of her grandfather; and also Eusebius’s Ecclesiastical History, out of Greek into Latin. See the Life of Sir Thomas More in the Second vol. of British Biography. Three Three daughters of Edward Seymour Duke of Somerset; uncle, and Protector of King Edward VI. who were also greatly celebrated for their learning and genius. Five daughters of Sir Anthony Coke, tutor to King Edward VI. who were famous for their knowledge in the learned languages. Ann the eldest was married to Sir Nicholas, and mother of the great Lord Bacon. She translated Bishop Jewel’s Apology for the Church of England out of Latin into English; and sent a copy of her translation to the Bishop for his perusal, accompanied with a letter written in Greek; who returned her an answer in the same language, and declared it was so correct, that it needed not the least amendment. It was published in 15641564, by the particular direction of Archbishop Parker. See the life of Sir Nicholas Bacon in the third vol. of British Biography. Among the above mentioned illustrious ornaments of that age, may be ranked Lady Catharine Grey, sister to Lady Jane Grey, who is also said to have been a woman of considerable learning; and the Countess of Pembroke, sister to the famous Sir Philip Sidney: A woman of fine accomplishments, and a great patroness of polite literature. How unfashionable soever such a maxim may be in our days, it seems to have been a received one by the ladies in that æra, that virtue and learning were the greatest ornaments of a woman! a bright assemblage shone,

And shar’d the palm man fondly thought his own.

2 See B4v 8

See, bending o’er Newcastle’s Margaret Dutchess of Newcastle was the youngest daughter of Sir Charles Lucas, and born in the reign of King James I. She is said to have discovered covered covered even from her infancy a very strong propensity to poetry and every kind of polite literature. The uncommon turn of many of her compositions, shews her to have been possessed of a luxuriant imagination. In 16431643, she was made one of the Maids of Honour to Henrietta, consort to King Charles I. And when that Princess left England, this Lady attended her to France; where she met with the Marquis of Newcastle, to whom she was married during her residence there. She died in 16731673. sacred urn,

The Muses sigh, and drooping Fancy mourn!

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For well she knew on vent’rous wing to soar,

And trace her fair ideal regions o’er.

O, had she liv’d in this more polish’d age,

And judgment rein’d imagination’s rage,

What magic songs our raptur’d ears had blest!

Our passions rouz’d, or sooth’d them all to rest.

In thee, illustrious Killegrew, Mrs. Ann Killegrew, daughter of Henry Killegrew (one of the Prebendaries of Westminster) was born a short time before the restoration of King Charles II. Her naturally fine genius being improved by a polite education, she made a great proficiency in the kindred-arts of Poetry and Painting, especially in the latter, in which she probably might have rivalled the greatest greatest masters of her time, had not death arrested her in the bloom of youth and genius. She died of the small-pox, in the 25th year of her age. Her death was lamented in a long Ode by Mr. Dryden. we find

The Poet’s and the Painter’s arts combin’d:

C ’Twas C1v 10

’Twas thine, O all-accomplish’d maid, to charm

Each breast that Virtue, or that Wit could warm:

Though early lost to earth, thy favor’d name

In Dryden’s verse shall boast immortal fame.

O dire disease! what havock hast thou made!

What crouds convey’d to death’s impervious shade!

By thee our fair Orinda The celebrated Mrs. Catharine Phillips, who also died of the small-pox. too expir’d,

Lov’d by the Muses, by the world admir’d!

(And thou, my Celia, in life’s gayest bloom

Felt’st its dread stroke, and met an early tomb:

Listless I touch the long-neglected lyre,

Now thy dear name has ceas’d my songs t’ inspire.

No more shall Fancy’s glowing page delight,

Or Art’s proud trophies charm my aching sight,

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Still the keen pangs of parting rend my breast,

And rob my days of peace, my nights of rest!)

Be Russell’s Lady Rachel Russell, daughter of Thomas Wriothesty Earl of Southampton, and wife to William Lord Russell, who was beheaded in the reign of King Charles II. See her letters. name by ev’ry heart approv’d,

Whilst thou, celestial Piety, art lov’d:

In her the strongest fortitude combin’d

With all the graces of a female mind:

The noblest pattern of connubial love,

’Twas hers the dread extreme of grief to prove.

Yet still convinc’d that providence is just,

She made its arm her unabating trust;

Saw lenient mercy blend her cup of woe,

And deal out all her portion here below:

Forever conscious of her Heav’nly birth,

And dead to all the vanities of earth,

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Impatient to attain a purer clime,

With pain her soul sustain’d the load of time.

Yet Heav’n long spar’d her life to bless the age,

And now she charms another by her page.

O, may that page, where all the virtues shine

And faith’s strong ardors breathe in every line,

Rouze the lethargic, animate the weak

The sordid ties of sense and time to break;

Since ev’ry wish that centers here below,

Must end in disappointment, pain, or woe!

Yet is not man unblest, nor Heav’n unkind,

True pleasure dwells with ev’ry virtuous mind!

How false the toy that oft assumes its name,

For which we hazard honour, health, and fame!

Like the coquette, she on each wooer smiles,

And charms his fancy by her soothing wiles;

His love obtain’d, his fond embrace she flies,

And meets with cold disdain his longing eyes.

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Eternal wisdom, with benignant zeal,

Closely unites our duty and our weal:

Hence, when we quit the Heav’n-directed way,

And through the beaten paths of folly stray,

Peace and contentment wing their hasty flight,

And leave the mind a stranger to delight;

Wild anarchy prevails; and dire despair,

With tyrant sway, the ruffled breast shall tear.

Well do Miranda’s The honourable Mrs. Monk, daughter of Lord Molesworth, and wife to George Monk Esquire. So great was her capacity, that she acquired, without the assistance of a teacher, a perfect knowledge of the Latin, Italian and Spanish tongues: she translated several Poems of the best authors in those languages, and wrote many original pieces. She died about the year 17151715; and on her death-bed at Bath, wrote a very pathetic epistle in verse to her husband in London. Soon after her decease her Poems were published under the Title of, Miranda, or Poems by a Lady. all-harmonious lays

Demand the Poet’s tributary bays,

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Who trod through learning’s arduous paths alone,

And made the wit of foreign climes our own;

Blest by the Muse in life, nor left in death,

Her panting bosom felt th’ inspiring breath;

Love nerv’d her hand (still to its object true)

To bid the partner of her cares adieu,

To bid him dry his sorrow-streaming eyes,

And gratulate her journey to the skies!

’Twas thine O Chudleigh Lady Chudleigh was the daughter of Richard Lee Esquire, of Winslade in the County of Devon, and wife to Sir George Chudleigh. She seems to hint in some of her writings that she had not enjoyed the advantages of a liberal education; but her application to study, and great capacity, enabled her to make a considerable figure amongst her contemporary writers. She wrote many poetical pieces which were then highly approved of, and was a zealous asserter of the female right to literature. In 17101710, she published a volume of Essays in Prose and Verse dedicated to the Princess Sophia of Hanover, Hanover, Mother of King George I, who was so well pleased with her Ladyship’s compliments, that in return she sent her a letter in her own hand-writing; a copy of which is inserted in Lady Chudleigh’s Life in the Biographical Dictionary. (name for ever dear

Whilst wit and virtue claim the lay sincere!)

Boldly C4r 15

Boldly t’assert great Nature’s equal laws,

And plead thy helpless injur’d sex’s cause:

For that, thy fame shall undecaying bloom,

And flow’rs unfading grow around thy tomb.

But say, Hibernia, can this humble verse

Thy own Constantia’s Mrs. Constantine Grierson was born in the county of Kilkenny in Ireland. She was a perfect mistress of the Hebrew, Greek, Latin, and French languages; and was equally well acquainted with History, Divinity, Philosophy, and Mathematics. She wrote a Dedication of the Dublin Edition of Tacitus to Lord Carteret: to his son she wrote a Greek Epigram. She also wrote many Poems in English, but on those she set so little value, that there are none of them extant, except a few interspersed amongst Mrs. Barber’s Poems; and two Epistles to Mrs. Pilkington, published by that Lady, in her Memoirs of her own own Life. To her great accomplishments Mrs. Grierson united the most fervent piety, and extensive benevolence. Her wit was not tinctured with illnature, nor her learning sullied with pride: nor did her attainments in literature, render her neglectful of the humbler duties of domestic life. What makes her character the more remarkable is, that she had no assistance in acquiring the great fund of knowledge which she possessed, besides a few accidental instructions from a Clergyman, who resided in the Parish in which she lived. Her parents were in too low a station of life to be capable of affording her any advantages of education. Previous to her marriage she was obliged to submit to the drudgery of the needle, to procure herself a subsistence. Her short intervals of leisure, were the only opportunities she enjoyed for study. She died at the age of 27. various praise rehearse?

What though her fortune low, her birth obscure,

Sprung from a race illiterate, rude and poor;

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To all th’ emoluments of art unknown,

Yet Wit and Learning mark’d her for their own.

With wond’rous ease, her comprehensive mind

The various stores of knowledge all combin’d:

A mind by nature form’d with strictest care

To teach us what superior beings are.

Of ev’ry virtue, ev’ry grace possest,

Weary of earth, impatient to be blest,

Soon her glad spirit broke each feeble tye

That held her here an exile from the sky;

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For there, there only, could her soul improve;

Such her exalted piety and love!

Thrice glorious hour, when truth’s unclouded ray

Bursts on the mind in all the blaze of day!

For O, what more than pompous trifles, all

Those things we purblind mortals science call!

In youth, when new-born spirits fire the breast,

Of health, and hope, and vanity possess’d,

With vigorous steps the arduous road we trace,

But soon are wearied in the dubious chace:

Errors, on ev’ry side, beset us round,

And soon our anxious, searching minds confound.

Thrice glorious hour, when truth’s unclouded ray

Bursts on the mind in all the blaze of day!

Thrice glorious hour, her ardent vot’ries cry

And pant for life and immortality!

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And thou, Mrs. Barber, the wife of a reputable tradesman in Dublin: a very ingenious Poetess, a woman of the most distinguished virtue, and a particular friend of Mrs. Grierson’s. Hibernia’s other fav’rite name,

Shall’st with Constantia’s ever join thy fame.

Thy merit well the charming angel knew,

And plac’d it in the fairest point of view.

Immortaliz’d by her, say, can the Muse

The well-meant tribute of her praise refuse?

Thy verse for noblest ends was still design’d;

To form aright the tender infant mind;

Vice to disrobe of ev’ry fair disguise,

And paint bright virtue to our raptur’d eyes.

Thee Swift, and noble Orrery approv’d,

And ev’ry friend to modest merit lov’d.

Whate’er, in beauty, nature had deny’d

To thee, O Chandler, Mrs. Chandler, sister to the celebrated dissenting clergyman of that name. Her Poems, the principal of which is A description of Bath, inscribed to to her Royal Highness the Princess Amelia, have passed through several editions. she in wit supply’d.

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No rosy cheek, no lip of Tyrian dye,

No polish’d forehead, nor the sparkling eye,

Taught senseless beaus to prostrate at thy shrine,

And hail their blooming idol all-divine:

But virtue reign’d triumphant in thy heart,

And thine was Poetry’s delightful art.

To Oxford next the Muse transported turns,

Where Jones See Essays in prose and verse by Miss Jones. A reader of taste and candour will not, perhaps, scruple to acknowledge, that her Epistle on Patience, addressed to Lord Masham, and that on Desire, to the honorable Miss Lovelace, are worthy the pen of our celebrated ethic Poet. with all a Poet’s ardour burns;

Jones, in whose strains another Pope we view,

Her wit so keen, her sentiments so true.

Like him the charming maid, with skill refin’d,

Hath pierc’d the deep recesses of the mind;

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The latent principles of action trac’d,

And Truth with Art’s enchanting beauties grac’d.

Ingenious Masters, Mrs. Mary Masters, a native of Otley near Leeds in Yorkshire. She herself informs us, that her genius for poetry was always discountenanced by her parents; that her education rose no higher than the Spelling-book, and the Writing Master; and that, till her merit got the better of her fortune, she was shut out from all commerce with the more knowing and polite part of the world. The first volume of her Poems and Letters was published 17331733; the second came out in 17551755. well thy tuneful lays

May claim the tribute of the Muse’s praise;

Whose soaring mind a parent’s frown depress’d,

A mind with virtue, and with genius bless’d!

And yet, how sweetly-soothing in thy strains,

The Royal Bard of Palæstine complains!

Well too thou paint’st those envious critics pride

Who, fond to cavil, merit’s charms would hide.

Superior to the labour’d songs of Art

The verse that flows spontaneous from the heart!

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But yet more sweet, more finish’d far the line,

Where Art, and Nature, in fair union shine.

Thou See the Muses Library, a collection of antient English Poetry, from the times of Edward the Confessor, to the reign of James I; with an account of the Lives and Characters of the Writers; by Mrs. Cooper. who did’st pierce the shades of gothic night,

And bring the first faint dawn of wit to light;

Who did’st the rude essays of genius save,

From dark oblivion’s all-devouring grave;

To thee, fair patron of the Muses songs,

To thee each grateful Poet’s praise belongs:

Praise, the sole boon a poet can bestow,

And the sole meed his arduous labours know.

Precarious meed! for oft alas, the bard

Finds Envy rob him of that sweet reward:

Her baneful touch his laurels soon destroys,

And blasts the harvest of his promis’d joys.

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O, then, ye favor’d few! whom wit inspires,

Whom taste refines, or thirst of glory fires,

To nobler objects turn the dazzled eye,

Than Honour, Fame, or Fortune can supply:

For sure alone in Virtue can ye find,

Enjoyments suited to th’ immortal mind.

With ardour then her sacred paths pursue;

There still new pleasures strike the raptur’d view:

Give to ambition there its utmost scope:

Thus shall your bliss surpass your brightest hope.

’Twas Fielding’s Mrs. Fielding, sister to the late Henry Fielding Esquire, and author of The Adventures of David Simple; Letters between the principal Characters in David Simple; The Governess, or, the Female Academy; The Lives of Cleopatra and Octavia; and of a translation, from the Greek, of Xenophon’s Memorabilia of Socrates. talent, with ingenuous Art,

To trace the secret mazes of the Heart.

In language tun’d to please its infant thought,

The tender breast with prudent care she taught.

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Nature to her, her boldest pencil lent,

And blest her with a mind of vast extent;

A mind, that nobly scorn’d each low desire,

And glow’d with pure Religion’s warmest fire.

High in the records of immortal fame

Stands, charming Tollett! Mrs. Elizabeth Tollett, daughter of George Tollett Esquire, Commissioner of the Navy in the reigns of King William and Queen Ann. Her father observing her uncommon genius, gave her so excellent an education, that, besides making a great proficiency in the fine Arts, she spoke fluently and correctly the Latin, Italian, and French languages; and well understood History, Astronomy, and Mathematics. These attainments were crowned with the most fervent piety, and every moral virtue. The former part of her life was spent in the Tower of London, (but under what circumstances her Biographer has not informed us); the latter at Stratford and Westham. She died in 1754-02February 1754. Her Poems were published in 17551755. thy illustrious name:

Thee Science led to her sequester’d bow’rs,

And deck’d thy mind with all her fairest flow’rs:

The charms of verse, of rapt’rous sounds, are thine,

The pencil’s magic, and the lore divine.

O Lenox, D4v 24

O Lenox, Mrs. Charlotte Lenox, author of Shakespear illustrated, with critical Remarks; of The Sister, a Comedy; and of, The Female Quixote. She has also translated (from the French) Brumoy’s Greek Theatre. thou in various nature wise!

Proceed to paint our follies as they rise;

Bid the coquette in blushes hide her face,

Which affectation robs of every grace:

Bid virtue, to her generous purpose true,

Press on, and keep perfection still in view.

Thus may success thy great designs attend,

And fame, and fortune, smile on virtue’s friend!

For love, for wit, and sentiments refin’d,

(Another Sappho with a purer mind!)

Endu’d with ev’ry charm that boasts to please,

Good-nature, softness, sprightliness, and ease;

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Long may’st thou, tuneful Frances, See Letters between Henry and Frances. Frances (otherwise Mrs. Griffiths) besides her share in those ingenious and entertaining Letters, has translated from the French the writings of Ninon de L’Enclos, and written Amana a Dramatic Poem, and A Wife in the Right, a Comedy. be renown’d;

Thy life with honour, as with virtue crown’d.

When X Mrs. Ann Steele of Broughton author of the poems signed Theodosia.— Theodosia See Poems on subjects chiefly devotional, by Theodosia, in two volumes. tunes her Heav’n-taught lyre,

What bosom burns not with seraphic fire?

Sweet harmonist! in thy extatic lines

Virtue in all her native graces shines:

There, each bright hope in tuneful numbers flows,

And there, fair faith! thy sacred ardour glows:

There, resignation smiles on care and pain,

And rapt’rous joys attunes the grateful strain.

O yet may Heav’n its healing aid extend,

And yet to health restore my valued friend:

Long be it ere her gentle spirit rise,

To fill some glorious mansion in the skies.

E But E1v 26

But hark! what softly-plaintive strains I hear!

How sweet they vibrate on my list’ning ear!

Sure Greville’s See Mrs. Greville’s beautiful Ode to Indifference. Muse must ev’ry bosom please

That finds a charm in elegance or ease:

Hers were those nice sensations of the heart,

Whose magic pow’r can pain to joy impart;

A feeling heart, that like the needle true,

Turn’d at each touch, and turning trembled too!

Daughter of Shenstone See original Poems by Miss Wheately. hail! hail charming maid,

Well hath thy pen fair nature’s charms display’d!

The hill, the grove, the flow’r-enamell’d lawn,

Shine in thy lays in brightest colours drawn:

Nor be thy praise confin’d to rural themes,

Or idly-musing Fancy’s pleasing dreams;

But E2r 27

But still may contemplation This couplet alludes to a fine Poem of that Lady’s, intituled, The Pleasures of Contemplation. (guest divine!)

Expand thy breast, and prompt the flowing line.

But thou Macaulay, Mrs. Macaulay the Historian. say, canst thou excuse

The fond presumption of a youthful Muse?

A Muse, that, raptur’d with thy growing fame,

Wishes (at least) to celebrate thy name;

A name, to ev’ry son of freedom dear,

Which patriots yet unborn shall long revere.

O Liberty! Heav’n’s noblest gift below,

Without thee life were but one scene of woe:

Beneath thy sway, in these auspicious isles,

Science erects her laurell’d head, and smiles;

Our great Augustus lives the friend of Arts,

And reigns unrivall’d in their vot’ries Hearts.

E2 A softer E2v 28

A softer theme now claims the Muse’s praise,

She feels the pow’r of Anna’s See Miscellanies in Prose and Verse by Anna Williams. tuneful lays:

Nor fortune’s frowns, nor blindness could controul

The noble rage of her aspiring soul.

When pensive o’er the tomb of Grey Stephen Grey, F. R. S. and author of the present doctrine of electricity. Mrs. Williams informs us, that she was the person who first discover’d the emission of the electrical spark from the human body, as she was assisting Mr. Grey in some of his experiments. She has since suffered a total loss of sight. she mourns,

Each heart the sympathetic sigh returns.

In poor Florilla’s varying fate we view,

How vain the toys our eager hopes pursue:

Nor wealth, nor wit, nor beauty can impart

One tranquil moment to the anxious heart.

Virtue! thou only smooth’st the brow of woe,

And thou alone can’st lasting bliss bestow!

Whilst o’er life’s various sea my bark shall glide,

Do thou a pilot at the helm preside:

When E3r 29

When gathering clouds the changing skies o’ercast,

When rough the surge, and loud the furious blast;

Or when the Heav’ns shall smile serenely fair,

Each wave roll smooth, and mild each breath of air;

Teach her one steady, glorious course to steer,

Not rashly bold, nor yet restrain’d by fear;

And may thy faithful compass guide her way,

To the bright regions of Eternal Day!

What various pow’rs in Pennington See letters on different subjects by the Author of The Unfortunate Mother’s Advice to her absent Daughters. (Lady Pennington.) we find!

Taste, spirit, learning, elegance combin’d.

All-musing now in Contemplation’s shades,

Her search the intellectual world pervades:

Now led by Fancy’s visionary ray,

She soars unfetter’d through th’ aërial way.

The E3v 30

The tender mind form’d by her fost’ring hand,

It’s weak ideas quickly learns t’expand:

’Tis Hers to charm in ev’ry varied scene,

Though witty modest, and though warm serene.

Say Montagu Mrs. Montagu, Author of the Essay on the Genius and Writings of Shakespeare, compared with the Greek and French Dramatic Poets. can this unartful verse

Thy Genius, Learning, or thy Worth rehearse?

To paint thy talents justly should conspire

Thy taste, thy judgment, and thy Shakespeare’s fire.

Well hath thy Pen with nice discernment trac’d

What various pow’rs the Matchless Poet grac’d;

Well hath thy Pen his various beauties shown,

And prov’d thy soul congenial to his own.

Charm’d with those splendid honours of thy Name,

Fain would the Muse relate thy nobler Fame;

Dear E4r 31

Dear to Religion, as to Learning dear,

Candid, obliging, modest, mild, sincere,

Still prone to soften at another’s woe,

Still fond to bless, still ready to bestow.

O, sweet Philanthropy! thou guest divine!

What permanent, what heart-felt joys are thine!

Supremely blest the maid, whose generous soul

Bends all-obedient to thy soft controul:

Nature’s vast theatre her eye surveys,

Studious to trace Eternal Wisdom’s ways;

Marks what dependencies, what different ties,

Throughout the spacious scale of beings rise;

Sees Providence’s oft-mysterious plan,

Form’d to promote the general good of man.

With noble warmth thence her expanded mind

Feels for the welfare of all human-kind:

Thence flows each lenient art that sooths distress,

And thence the unremitting wish to bless!

Th’ E4v 32

Th’ aspiring Muse now droops her trembling wings,

Whilst, Indolence, See Indolence a Poem, by the Author of Almida a Tragedy. ( Mrs. Celesia, daughter of the late Mr. Mallett.) thy tranquil pow’r she sings;

Not sordid sloth, the low-born mind’s disease,

But calm retirement, and poetic ease.

Ah! let me ever live with thee immur’d,

From Folly’s laugh, from envy’s rage secur’d,

In ev’ry scene of changeful life the same,

Not fondly courting, nor despising Fame.

Talbot, Mrs. Catherine Talbot, only daughter of the Reverend Edward Talbot, Archdeacon of Berks, and Preacher at the Rolls; (younger son of Dr. Talbot Bishop of Durham.) This truly excellent Lady was blest with the happiest natural talents: her understanding was vigorous, her imagination lively, and the her taste refined. Her virtues were equal to her genius, and rendered her at once the object of universal love and admiration. She was the Author of Reflections on the Seven Days of the Week; and of Essays on various Subjects, 2 volumes. Her writings breathe the noblest spirit of Christian benevolence; and discover a more than common acquaintance with human nature. did e’er mortality enshrine

A mind more gen’rous, meek, or kind, than thine?

Delightful moralist! thy well-wrote page

Shall please, correct, and mend the rising age;

Point F1r 33

Point out the road the thoughtless many miss,

That leads through virtue to the realms of bliss.

Fain would my soul thy sentiments imbibe,

And fain thy manners in my own transcribe:

Genius and Wit were but thy second praise,

Thou knew’st to win by still sublimer ways;

Thy Angel-goodness, all who knew approv’d,

Honour’d, admir’d, applauded too, and lov’d!

Fair shall thy fame to latest ages bloom,

And ev’ry Muse with tears bedew thy tomb.

And thou See Sermons by A Lady, The Translatress of four select Tales from Marmontel. whose pen, congenial to thy breast,

Hath shown us Virtue by the Graces drest;

F Hath F1v 34

Hath stigmatiz’d the miser’s narrow aim,

And bid our youth revere a parent’s claim;

Taught us that nought beneath yon radiant sky,

The mind’s unbounded wishes can supply;

Still in the glorious race, O let thy soul

Press boldly on, Eternal Life’s the goal!

Nor shalt thou See Poems by A Lady, printed for Walter in 17711771. be forgot whose tuneful tongue

So well the charms of Strawberry-hill hath sung;

Long shall thy wit in Walpole’s numbers live,

When dead the little honours mine can give.

Fir’d with the Music, Aikin, See Poems and Miscellaneous Pieces in Prose, by Miss Aikin, (daughter of the Reverend Mr. Aikin, one of the tutors to the Academy at Warrington) lately married to the Reverend Mr. Rochemont Barbauld. of thy lays,

To thee the Muse a joyful tribute pays;

Transported F2r 35

Transported dwells on that harmonious line,

Where taste, and spirit, wit, and learning shine;

Where Fancy’s hand her richest colourings lends,

And ev’ry shade in just proportion blends.

How fair, how beauteous to our gazing eyes

Thy vivid intellectual paintings rise!

We feel thy feelings, glow with all thy fires,

Adopt thy thoughts, and pant with thy desires.

Proceed, bright maid! and may thy polish’d page

Refine the manners of a trifling age:

Thy sex apprize of pleasure’s treach’rous charms,

And woo them from the Syren’s fatal arms;

Teach them with thee on Fancy’s wing to soar,

With thee, the paths of science to explore;

With thee, the open book of Nature scan,

Yet nobly scorn the little pride of Man.

F2 The F2v 36

Man, seated high on Learning’s awful throne,

Thinks the fair realms of knowledge his alone;

But you, ye fair, his Salic Law disclaim:

Supreme in Science shall the Tyrant reign!

When every talent all-indulgent Heav’n

In lavish bounty to your share hath giv’n?

With joy ineffable the Muse surveys

The orient beams of more resplendent days:

As on she raptur’d looks to future years,

What a bright throng to Fancy’s view appears!

To them see Genius her best gifts impart,

And Science raise a throne in ev’ry heart!

One turns the moral, one th’ historic page;

Another glows with all a Shakespeare’s rage!

With matchless Newton now one soars on high,

Lost in the boundless wonders of the sky;

Another now, of curious mind, reveals

What treasures in her bowels Earth conceals;

2 Na- F3r 37

Nature’s minuter works attract her eyes;

Their laws, their pow’rs, her deep research descries.

From sense abstracted, some, with arduous flight,

Explore the realms of intellectual light;

With unremitting study seek to find,

How mind on matter, matter acts on mind:

Alike in nature, arts, and manners read,

In ev’ry path of knowledge, see they tread!

Whilst men, convinc’d of Female Talents, pay

To Female Worth the tributary lay.

Yet now there sure are some of nobler kind,

From all their sex’s narrow views refin’d,

Who, truly wise, attempt not to controul

The generous ardor of th’ aspiring soul:

Such, tuneful Duncombe, The Reverend John Duncombe M.A. Fellow of Corpus Christi College Cambridge, Rector of St. Andrew’s and St. Mary Bredman’s, one of the Six Preachers at the Cathedral at Canterbury, and Author of the Feminead, or Female Female Genius, a Poem. The Ladies there celebrated are Mrs. Catherine Philips, Anne Countess of Winchelsea, Mrs. Cockburn, Mrs. Rowe, Frances Dutchess Dowager of Somerset, Anne Viscountess Irwin, Mrs. Wright, Mrs. Madan, Mrs. Leapor, Mrs. Carter, Mrs. Brooke, Miss Ferrar, (now Mrs. Peckard); Miss Pennington, (since dead); Miss Mulso, (now Mrs. Chapone); and Miss Highmore (since married to the Author). thou, whose Attic lays

Demand the warmest strains of grateful praise:

F3v 38

Fearless of censure, boldly thou stood’st forth

An able Advocate for Female Worth!

For that! may the far-sounding Voice of Fame,

To latest Ages bear thy honour’d Name;

For that! may Fancy still her aid impart,

And still the Muse’s smile dilate thy heart;

For that! may Hope still strew thy path with flow’rs,

And ev’ry blessing crown thy circling hours!

Such he See a Poem in Dodsley’s Miscellanies, intituled, The Female Right to Literature, in a Letter to a Young Lady from Florence, written by the Reverend Mr. Seward, Canon of Litchfield. who dared against a World decide,

And stem the rage of Custom’s rapid tide;

1 Who F4r 39

Who kindly bade Athenia’s growing mind,

Take ev’ry knowledge in of ev’ry kind.

And such art thou, my ever-valued friend;

Ah! still thy candour to the Muse extend:

Permit that honour’d Name to grace her page,

Which shames the manners of a selfish age!

(That name, whose merit still this heart must feel,

Yet vainly strive that merit to reveal!)

Mrs Steele of Broughton Hants: Philander! generous, affable, sincere,

His taste as polish’d as his judgment clear,

Blest with the tenderest feelings of the Heart,

Wise without Stiffness, prudent without Art,

Form’d with like ease t’ enjoy a prosp’rous state

Or bear the storms of unpropitious fate.

Such he, who, when I first attun’d the lay,

With his own candour view’d the faint essay;

En- F4v 40

Enjoin’d me still to court the Muse’s smile,

The tiresome hours of languor to beguile.

O could this pen, which gratitude impells,

But tell how ――Paltney a well known physician who lives at Blandford in each scene excels!

O could she but some glowing colours find,

To paint each feature of his finish’d mind!

A mind, unstain’d with vanity, or art,

The gentlest manners, and the kindest heart!

A mind where prudence, judgement, taste unite,

Though learn’d yet humble, though sincere polite;

His passions calm’d, his wishes all subdu’d,

But these (the noblest!) to be wise and good.

Ye generous pleaders of the female cause,

Ye friends to Nature’s (her’s are Reason’s laws)

For you the Muse shall raise her drooping wing,

And Peans echo from each trembling string.

Though G1r 41

Though sunk with languor, and unceasing pains,

Life’s purple current stagnates in my veins;

Though Fancy mourns her fairy visions fled,

And all the fond, fond hopes of youth are dead!

Still next to virtue, science charms my eye,

And frequent prompts the unavailing sigh.

But O would Heav’n my faded health renew,

Unwearied I’d the glorious toils pursue;

Well-pleas’d in sweet retirement’s shady bow’rs,

In studious ease, to spend my remnant hours.



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