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madverting upon Dr. Goldsmith's opinion that the complexion of the present times is unfavourable to literary merit.

The author, in his dedication to Sir Jofhua Reynolds, makes a very singular confession, not much to the honour either of the painter, or the poet. He says “ I am ignorant of that art in which you are said to excel."-If a poet, and a poet who chiefly excels in the picturesque, has no taste for fine painting, we must think him a phænomenon.-" I would not give a farthing,' says Voltaire, “ for those specimens of the fine arts, which only engage the attention of artists."

Dr. Goldsmith deserves the highest applause for employing his poetical talents in the support of humanity and virtue, in an age when sentimental instruction will have more powerful influence upon our conduct than any other ; when abftruse systems of morality, and dry exhortations from the pulpit, if attended to for a while, make no durable impression.

VI. The Female Advocate, a Poem. By W. Woty, 4to. Pr. 25,


W ERE this poem as nervous and striking as the sixth fatire

of Juvenal, our modern ladies would have the less need to regret the severe treatment which their sex met with from one of the greatest of poets in the reign of Domitian. However, it is not without its merit. Parnafsus hath its pretty thrubs as well as its towering and majestick oaks.

So contracted and illiberal are the hearts of men, that it is to be questioned whether so long a poem was ever written in defence of women as The Female Advocate. Women indeed have often been the subject of poetical praise; but rather from flashes of imagination, and gaiety of humour, than from a deliberate, and grateful determination to do honour to their merit. Yet they have a most indefeasible right to the homage of the poet ; for to them we owe the sweetest pleasures, the highest raptures of life ; and poets, of all others, are most sensible to their charms. Mr. Woty, however, goes beyond the bounds of reason in his admiration of the fair sex, and is quite a French idolater of the ladies; for he makes them more innocent and benign beings than we generaly find them,

His verses are easy, and Aowing; and his characters are drawn with a pleasantry peculiar to himself.

He supposes the females taking the field against their adversaries, the men ; with himself, as their champion, at their head. The description of this mock-heroick engagement contains many humorous circumstances.

• In

• In thought already I survey the fair,
Range their bright troops, and for the fight prepare,
Before such troops whilft I my standard rear,
My beating heart disdains a thought of fear.
See! where two furly combatants advance, ..
In impious daring each presents his lance;
And now abash'd they scamper from the plain,
Celia's soft hand hath shiver'd 'em in twain.
Twelve doughty champions next in front appear,
And twice twelve more stand lurking in the rear.
In vain at Florimel the daftards frown, i
She heaves a gentle figh, and blows 'em down.,
Next comes a dainty Sir, with mincing pace,
Soft creamy hand, and nice cosmetic face.
In pompous tone his prowess doth he boast,
Denouncing vengeance on the female host,
And vows fome other method more refin'd
Should be devis'd to propagate mankind.'
Up stepp'd Aurelia to this haughty brag,
And gently clos'd him in her knot-ting-bag,
His second next attempts a feeble stand,
With wit's sharp dagger in his trembling hand,
The puny champion fair Rosetta fees,
Smiles at his reedy Thanks, and afpen knees.
Crack went the fan of this triumphant belle,

And down the dagger and the champion fell.' In the following verses he attributes the greatest faults of the women to the bad treatment which they receive from the men. There is more of compliment than of truth in these lines. Undoubtedly women are often driven to their most enormous profligacies by the perfidy of their seducers. But in fact they and men are made of the same frail materials : both the sexes are apt to fall into great misconduct, without any rebarkable provocations to impatience or despair.

• Woman's my theme_from her I'll not depart,
Whilst strength my nerves, and courage fills my heart.
Woman ! the richest, deare: pledge of Heav'n!
Whofe ev'ry fault by man should be forgiv'n ;
Since her chief faults (which he may bluch to own,

Yet own he must) proceed from him alone.'

The hardy atchievements of the modern military hero, when · lifted under the banners of love are wittily enumerated.

• Favour'd by whom, the soldier takes up arms, And dares his perfon ro a thousand harms,


His narrow feet with narrower shoes adorns,
And bids defiance to the twitch of corns ;
Suffers his temples to be sing'd, nor feels
The heat that issues from the curling steels;
Renounces, or at least conceals his fears,
Tho' his locks finoke, and hiss about his ears:
But dangers such as these he well may bear,
Whon ball and powder never yet could scare.

. For thee he buckles on the fatal blade,
Fierce cocks his hat, and shews his fierce cockade.
For thee in martial trim behold him thine,
Ready to give a challenge-or decline.
When ev'ry prudent man is safe in bed,
And dreams of comfort hovering o'er his head,
In those dull moments, at that sluggish hour,
When, tir’d with bus’ness, furly landlords low'r,
And drowsy waiters, wanting needful reft,
With half-nut optics, damn each drunken guest,
For thee he watches, gives and takes the toaft,
Most happy then, when he can swill the most.
Full of thy charms, he risks without a dread
The sick’ning vomit, and the aching head,
Hazards the consequence of sitting late, .. .
And all the ills that bumpers can create:
Surcharg'd with wine, he quits the festive board,
And lifts aloft his formidable sword,
Then fallies outward, resolute of soul,
Nor heeds the watchman, or the watchinan's pole;
Stalks boldly on, nor knows a single fright
From hair breadth 'scapes, and dangers of the night;
So daring at the last, he ventures nigh

A round house when the constable's not by.' The poein is closed with a poetical imitation of the third, and part of the fourth chapter of the first book of Efdras, in which three young men support their three sentences before king Darius. The sentence of the first was, “ wine is the strongeft;" the sentence of the second, "the king is the firongeft;' the sentence of the third, “ women are strongest ; but above all things truth beareth away the villory." The palm was adjudged to the third young man, who gave truth the preference to all things, and who for his sentiments on truth was most applauded by the king and his courtiers. But the second part of the young man's sentence did not make for Mr. Woty's purpose ; and therefore he, prudently, takes no notice of it. A poet is much more warmly at:ached to woman than to truth.


on the capture;

would avoid

He makes the speech of the third young man to conclude with the praise of woman, the audience join their acclamations in the same strain, and the roofs resound with the praise of woman.

• He ceas'd--the roofs resounded with applause;

And woman, charming woman, won the cause.' We wish that Mr. Woty would avoid the low double entendre, and pun, which are disgraceful to poetry, and strong marks of a vitiated taste. Many inftances of punning are to be met with in this poem.

Are, by degrees, entitled to degrees.'

• What groves, ye grovekings, do ye deign to tread? Woman he says, is,

• In fondness equal to the fawning fawn." Darius, in the following insipid line, seems to sink from a king to a lap-dog : the third young orator, speaking of Darius, and his mistress, Apame, says,

• Even now the pats him with her barmless hand.'

VII. Poems, and Translations by a young Gentleman of Oxford. 410.

Pr. 25. Robinson and Roberts. THIS pamphlet contains lively description, virtuous senti

ment, and harmonious verse. The author's imitation of the last Chorus of the second act of Troades is extremely animated, and much fuperior to the original.

The changeable and transient life of man is forcibly exhibited in the following beautiful lines:

• As round the sun the splendent planets roll,
Which cheer the night, and glitter on the pole ;
And as the seasons in their course appear,
Reflecting beauties on the checquer'd year ;
As the revolving moon, of lustre bright,
In silver vest dispels the gloom of night;
So fated man his transient course pursues,
"Till ruthless death arrests his airy views.
As to the sky the mantling smoke ascends,
And o'er heav'n's vault its dusky veil extends;
And as the clouds in sullen grandeur move,
And form a phalanx in the fields above;


ne flow,

"Till at the northern blast the shadows fly,
And azure plains delight the ravish'd.eye;
Such is the state of visionary inan,
His pleasures transient, and his life a span :
At morn he blooms, with conscious pride elate,
At eve he shrinks, and dreads impending fate.
So the gay flow'r that decks the woodland glade,

Is dooni'd to blossom, and is doom'd to fade," There are in this Chorus some philosophical principles on the love of life, and the fear of death, which, on account of their own importance, and the elegant dress with which they are cloathed, deserve to be transcribed. Whenever they are heartily adopted, they certainly preclude much imaginary distress : though they cannot well be reduced to practice without two auxiliaries, which one man can feldom boast, an easy, happy constitution, and a mind free from prejudice. • No real joys from wealth or fortune flow,

Nay length of life is but protracted woe.
Then what is death? why should the name affright,
The empty bugbear of a winter's night!
Why shou'd we shudder at this final blow,
Which sooths each care, and drowns the voice of woe ?
Let minds which float on Fancy's airy wing,
Paint fields Elysian, and eternal spring;
Let fad enthusiasts form a dreary cave,
And feel the blast which curls Cocytus' wave :
Be mine the lot to pass unbeeded through
Life's mazy path, and take a transient view
Of fleeting bliss, while now and then a smile,
Plays on my lips, each forrow to beguile ;
Not over-fond of life, nor fearing death,
Content and tranquil I'll resign my breath ;
For tho' with airy joys our fancies teem,

Sure life and death are but an anxious dream.' His Elegy is very flowing and tender ; we fhall extract a fpecimen from it. • How vain the pageantry of worldly things !

And what is grandeur but an empty name?
Short-liv'd the glory of the greatest kings,

Tho'llaughter'd nations raise their ill-got fame. • Where is, alas ! the pride of Persia flown?

The pomp of Rome, with all her empires o'er;
And e'en where Ilium stood is scarcely known;
And haughty Carthage now exults no more.


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