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

The author, in his dedication to Sir Joshua Reynolds, makes a very fingular confeffion, not much to the honour either of the painter, or the poet. He fays "I am ignorant of that art in which you are faid to excel."-If a poet, and a poet who chiefly excels in the picturefque, has no taste for fine painting, we must think him a phenomenon." I would not give a farthing," fays Voltaire," for thofe fpecimens of the fine arts, which only engage the attention of artists."

Dr. Goldsmith deferves the higheft applaufe for employing his poetical talents in the fupport of humanity and virtue, in an age when fentimental instruction will have more powerful influence upon our conduct than any other; when abstruse fyftems of morality, and dry exhortations from the pulpit, if attended to for a while, make no durable impreffion.

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

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ERE this poem as nervous and striking as the fixth fatire of Juvenal, our modern ladies would have the less need to regret the fevere treatment which their fex met with from one of the greatest of poets in the reign of Domitian. However, it is not without its merit. Parnaffus hath its pretty hrubs as well as its towering and majestick oaks.

So contracted and illiberal are the hearts of men, that it is to be queftioned whether so long a poem was ever written in defence of women as The Female Advocate. Women indeed have often been the fubject of poetical praife; 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 fenfible to their charms. Mr. Woty, however, goes beyond the bounds of reafon in his admiration of the fair fex, and is quite a French idolater of the ladies; for he makes them more innocent and benign beings than we generally find them.

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

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

'In

In thought already I furvey the fair,

Range their bright troops, and for the fight prepare.
Before fuch troops whilft I my ftandard rear,
My beating heart difdains a thought of fear.
See! where two furly combatants advance,
In impious daring each prefents his lance;
And now abafh'd they fcamper from the plain,
Celia's foft hand hath shiver'd 'em in twain.
Twelve doughty champions next in front appear,
And twice twelve more ftand lurking in the rear.
In vain at Florimel the daftards frown,

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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 prowefs doth he boast,
Denouncing vengeance on the female hoft,
And vows fome other method more refin'd
Should be devis'd to propagate mankind.'
Up ftepp'd Aurelia to this haughty brag,
And gently clos'd him in her knot-ting-bag,
His fecond next attempts a feeble stand,
With wit's fharp dagger in his trembling hand,
The puny champion fair Rofetta 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 verfes he attributes the greateft 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 feducers. But in fact they and men are made of the fame frail materials: both the fexes are apt to fall into great misconduct, without any remarkable provocations to impatience or despair.

• Woman's my theme-from her I'll not depart,
Whilft ftrength my nerves, and courage fills my heart.
Woman! the richeft, deare.: pledge of Heav'n!
Whofe ev'ry fault by man fhould be forgiv'n;
Since her chief faults (which he may blush to own,
Yet own he muft) 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 foldier takes up arms,

And dares his perfon to a thousand harms,

His narrow feet with narrower fhoes adorns,
And bids defiance to the twitch of corns;
Suffers his temples to be fing'd, nor feels
The heat that iffues from the curling fteels;
Renounces, or at least conceals his fears,
Tho' his locks fmoke, and hifs about his ears:
But dangers fuch as these he well may bear,
Whom ball and powder never yet could scare.

For thee he buckles on the fatal blade,
Fierce cocks his hat, and fhews his fierce cockade.
For thee in martial trim behold him shine,
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 rest,
With half-fhut optics, damn each drunken guest,
For the he watches, gives and takes the toaft,
Most happy then, when he can fwill the most.
Full of thy charms, he risks without a dread
The fick ning vomit, and the aching head,
Hazards the confequence of fitting late,
And all the ills that bumpers can create:
Surcharg❜d with wine, he quits the feftive board,
And lifts aloft his formidable sword,

Then fallies outward, refolute of foul,

Nor heeds the watchman, or the watchman's pole
Stalks boldly on, nor knows a fingle fright

From hair breadth 'fcapes, and dangers of the night;
So daring at the laft, he ventures nigh

A round houfe-when the conftable's not by.'

The poem is clofed with a poetical imitation of the third, and part of the fourth chapter of the first book of Efdras, in which three young men fupport their three fentences before "wine is the king Darius. The fentence of the first was, ftrongeft;" the fentence of the fecond, "the king is the ftrongeft;" the fentence of the third, "women are strongeft; but above all things truth beareth away the victory." The palm was adjudged to the third young man, who gave truth the preference to all things, and who for his fentiments on truth was most applauded by the king and his courtiers. But the fecond part of the young man's fentence did not make for Mr. Woty's purpofe; and therefore he, prudently, takes no notice of it. A poet is much more warmly at:ached to woman than to truth.

He

He makes the speech of the third young man to conclude with the praise of woman, the audience join their acclamations in the fame ftrain, and the roofs refound with the praise of

woman.

He ceas'd-the roofs refounded with applaufe; And woman, charming woman, won the cause.' We wish that Mr. Woty would avoid the low double entendre, and pun, which are difgraceful to poetry, and strong marks of a vitiated tafte. Many inftances of punning are to be met with in this poem.

• Profeffors-who

Are, by degrees, entitled to degrees?

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

• In fondness equal to the fawning fawn."

Darius, in the following infipid line, feems to fink from a king to a lap-dog: the third young orator, speaking of Darius, and his mistress, Apame, fays,

Even now the pats him with her barmless hand.'

VII. Poems, and Tranflations by a young Gentleman of Oxford. 4to.

THIS

Pr. 25.

Robinson and Roberts.

"HIS pamphlet contains lively description, virtuous fentiment, 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 tranfient life of man is forcibly ex hibited in the following beautiful lines:

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As round the fun the fplendent planets roll,
Which cheer the night, and glitter on the pole ;
And as the feafons in their course appear,
Reflecting beauties on the checquer'd year;
As the revolving moon, of luftre bright,
In filver veft difpels the gloom of night;
So fated man his tranfient course pursues,
"Till ruthless death arrefts his airy views.
As to the sky the mantling fmoke afcends,
And o'er heav'n's vault its dufky veil extends;
And as the clouds in fullen grandeur move,
And form a phalanx in the fields above;

"Till at the northern blast the shadows fly,
And azure plains delight the ravish'd.eye;
Such is the state of vifionary man,

His pleasures tranfient, and his life a span :
At morn he blooms, with confcious pride elate,
At eve he fhrinks, and dreads impending fate.
So the gay flow'r that decks the woodland glade,

Is doon'd to bloffom, and is doom'd to fade.'

There are in this Chorus fome philofophical principles on the love of life, and the fear of death, which, on account of their own importance, and the elegant drefs with which they are cloathed, deferve to be tranfcribed. Whenever they are heartily adopted, they certainly preclude much imaginary diftrefs 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 thou'd we fhudder at this final blow,

Which fooths each care, and drowns the voice of woe?
Let minds which float on Fancy's airy wing,
Paint fields Elyfian, and eternal spring;
Let fad enthufiafts form a dreary cave,
And feel the blaft which curls Cocytus' wave:
Be mine the lot to pafs unheeded through
Life's mazy path, and take a tranfient view
Of fleeting blifs, 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 refign 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 shall extract a fpecimen from it.

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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' flaughter'd nations raise their ill-got fame.
Where is, alas! the pride of Perfia flown?
The pomp of Rome, with all her empires o'er ;
And e'en where Ilium ftood is fcarcely known;
And haughty Carthage now exults no more.

Thus

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