ng, and as little desiring the public should
have any opportunity, either of applauding or condemning them.'

Mr. Jacob tells us, that these Poems and Translations, shew the true
spirit, and numbers of poetry, a delicacy of turn, and justness of
thought and expression. They consist of Ecclogues; the Masque of the
Virtues against Love, from Guarini; some translations from the French
and Italians; Familiar Epistles, Odes and Madrigals.

Her poetry has great warmth, and tenderness of sentiment. The following
Epitaph on a lady of pleasure, was written by her,

O'er this marble drop a tear,
Here lies fair Rosalinde,
All mankind was pleas'd with her,
And she with all mankind.

And likewise this Epigram upon another lady of the same character.

Chloe, her gossips entertains,
With stories of her child-bed pains,
And fiercely against Hymen rails:
But Hymen's not so much to blame;
She knows, unless her memory fails,
E'er she was wed, 'twas much the same.

The following verses, which breathe a true spirit of tenderness, were
written by her, on her death-bed at Bath, when her husband was in
London,

Thou, who dost all my worldly thoughts employ,
Thou pleasing source of all my earthly joy:
Thou tenderest husband, and thou best of friends,
To thee, this first, this last adieu I send.
At length the conqueror death asserts his right,
And will forever veil me from thy sight.
He wooes me to him, with a chearful grace;
And not one terror clouds his meagre face.
He promises a lasting rest from pain;
And shews that all life's fleeting joys are vain.
Th' eternal scenes of Heaven he sets in view,
And tells me, that no other joys are true.
But love, fond love, would yet resist his power;
Would fain a-while defer the parting hour:
He brings the mourning image to my eyes,
And would obstruct my journey to the skies.
But say thou dearest, thou unwearied friend;
Say should'st thou grieve to see my sorrows end?
Thou know'st a painful pilgrimage I have past,
And should'st thou grieve, that rest is come at last;
Rather rejoice to see me shake off life,
And die as I have liv'd, thy faithful wife.

* * * * *

Mr. THOMAS BROWN.

This humorous poet was the son of a considerable Farmer of Shiffnall,
in Shropshire, and educated at Newport-school in that county, under the
reverend and learned Dr. Edwards, a gentleman who had the honour to
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