Apart from its too close resemblance to
"None but himself could be his parallel,"
it strikes one that Mrs. Bradstreet's admirer pays a poor compliment to the lady's modesty, however he may praise her ability; and another and abler critic, the Rev. Nathaniel Ward, takes occasion in paying his respects to the singer to cast a slur upon her sex:
"It half revives my chill frost-bitten blood
To see a Woman once do aught that's good;"
which could hardly be described as fulsome praise. It must be remembered that in those days it was rare to see a woman attempt anything with the pen, and the prologue to the volume contains some deprecatory reference to this state of affairs:
"I am obnoxious to each carping tongue
Who says my hand a needle better fits,
A Poet's pen all scorn I thus should wrong,
For such despite they cast on Female wits;