Those are the most material incidents in the life of our poetess; a lady, who was born with high powers from nature, which were afterwards cultivated by enjoying the brightest conversation; the early part of her life was unfortunate, she fell a sacrifice to a seducer, who laid the foundation for those errors she afterwards committed, and of those sufferings she underwent; she had a high relish for the pleasures of life; she was extremely susceptible of the passion of love, and treated it with a peculiar vivacity.
Her dramatic works are
1. The Lover, or The Jealous Husband; acted at the Theatre-Royal 1696. This play did not succeed in the representation.
2. The Royal Mischief, a Tragedy; acted by his Majesty's Servants in the Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields 1696. This was exhibited with general applause.
3. Lucius, the First Christian King of Britain, a Tragedy; acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane by his Majesty's Servants, and dedicated to Sir Richard Steele. She has written several poems, and we shall select, as a specimen, an Epistle to the Countess of Bristol, which will shew how much she possessed the power of delicate numbers; she has also in print a volume of Letters, the second edition of which was published in 1713. She died July 11, 1724.
To the Right Honourable the
Countess of BRISTOL.
Long had my mind, unknowing how to soar,
In humble prose been train'd, nor aim'd at more:
Near the fam'd sisters never durst aspire
To sound a verse, or touch the tuneful lyre.
'Till Bristol's charms dissolv'd the native cold;
Bad me survey her eyes, and thence be bold.
Thee, lovely Bristol! thee! with pride I chuse,
The first, and only subject of my muse;
That durst transport me like the bird of Jove,
To face th' immortal source of light above!
Such are thy kindred beams—
So blessings, with a bounteous hand they give,
So they create, and make creation live.
When charming Felton, of a beauteous race,
Adorn'd in blooming youth, with ev'ry grace;
First saw the lovely Suffolk Swain her prize,
The noblest conquest of the brightest eyes!
How many wretched nymphs that union made,
What cold despair the warmest hearts invade!
What crouds of lovers, hopeless and undone,
Deplore those charms which brought their ruin on!
Rich in themselves—all excellence they find,
Wit! beauty! wisdom! and a constant mind!
No vain desires of change disturb their joy;
Such sweets, like bliss divine, can never cloy:
Fill'd with that spirit which great souls inflame,
Their wondrous offspring start to early fame.
In their young minds, immortal sparkles rise!
And all their mother flashes from their eyes!
From thence such scenes of beauty charm the sight,
We know not where o fix the strong delight!
Hervey's soft features—next, Eliza bright!
Anna just dawning, like Aurora's light!
With all the smiling train of Cupids round,
Fond little loves, with flowing graces crown'd.
As some fair flowers, who all their bloom disclose,
The Spanish Jas'min, or the British Rose?
Arriv'd at full perfection, charm the sense,
Whilst the young blossoms gradual sweets dispense.
The eldest born, with almost equal pride;
The next appears in fainter colours dy'd:
New op'ning buds, as less in debt to time,
Wait to perform the promise of their prime!
All blest descendants of the beauteous tree,
What now their parent is, themselves shall be.
Oh! could I paint the younger Hervey's mind,
Where wit and judgment, fire and taste refin'd
To match his face, with equal art are join'd:
Oh best belov'd of Jove! to thee alone,
What would enrich the whole, he gives to one!