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His tafle was delicate, and refined by a careful perufal of the ancient claffics. His admiration of thofe models of fine writing, led to an imitation fo clofe, as often to preclude originality. There is little of novelty in the thoughts, the imagery, or the fentiments of Parnell. But the thoughts are just; the images, though not great, are beautiful, well felected, and happily applied; the fentiments, though not bold or impaffioned, are natural and agreeable. The moral tendency is excellent, the verfification is sweet and harmonious, and the language pure, proper, and correct.

The Rife of Woman was one of his earliest productions. It is a very fine illuftration of a hint from Hefiod. The Anacreontic, When spring comes on with fresh delight, is taken from the French, but fuperior to the original. The imagery is beautiful, and the fentiments natural and pleafing. Gay Bacchus, &c. is a translation from Augurellus; but the latter part is purely Parnell's. The Fairy Tale is inconteftibly one of the finest pieces in any language. Perhaps none of his performances discover more genius. Wit and virtue, without beauty, becoming amiable in the eyes of a mistress, in preference to beauty without wit and virtue, is finely defcribed. The old dialect is not perfectly well preserved; but that is a very flight defect where all the reft is fo excellent. The Pervigilium Veneris, afcribed to Catullus, is very well tranflated. It is replete with natural and In general, all Parimpaffioned defcription, and the verfification is easy, flowing, and harmonious.

nell's tranflations are excellent. Goldfinith has very properly remarked, that in the Battle of the Frogs and Mice, the Greek names have not in English their original cffect. The Epifile to Pope is one of the fineft compliments that was ever paid to any poet. The praife is high, but difcriminative and appropriate. That part of it where he deplores his being far from wit and learning, as being far from Pope, gave particular offence to his friends at home. The panegyric Swift is not exceeded by it in difcrimination of character, selection of imagery, and felicity of expreffion.

The Bookworm is a tranflation from Beza, with modern applications. The tranflation of the defcription of Belinda at her toilet in the Rape of the Lock, into monkih verfe, shows what a mafter Parnell was of the Latin language. The Eclogue on Health is fimple and beautiful. The Elegy on an Old Beauty has little point or novelty, The Allegory on Man fhows a vigour of genius, and compression of thought, fuperior to what appears in most of Farnell's pieces. The Hymn to Contentment, Dr. Johnson fufpects to have been borrowed from Cleveland. The Night Picse on Death deferves every praife. It is indire &ly preferred by Goldfmith to Gray's "Elegy;" but, in Dr. Johnfon's opinion, Gray has the advantage in dignity, variety, and originality of fentiment. The fabulous characters in the Elyfum are finely defcribed, and the numbers are exquifitely harmonious. The Hermit is the most popular of his performances. The object of the poem deferves high praile for its piety and conduciveness to human happiness. It is confpicuous for beautiful defcriptive narration, The meeting with a companion, and the houfes in which they are fucceffively entertained, of the vain man, the covetous man, and the good man, are pieces of very fine painting. It may be doubted whether the means employed for correcting the two firft cha. racters were altogether adequate to the purpose intended. It is not probable that a vain man would abstain from a cuftomary gratification of his vanity merely for the lofs of an inftrument of it, to a man of his wealth fo eafily fupplied. Habitual avarice is not usually removed by unexpeЯed acquifitions. The general doctrine inculcated by the Hermit's companion is founded in the best philofophy. The story is in Hovell's Letters and More's Dialogues; and Goldfmith fuppofes it to have been originally Arabian. Among his pofthumous pieces, the Effay on the different Styles of Poetry, and the Vision of Piety, have fome paffages which deferve commendation. Few of the Scripture Pieces require particular criticifm; and fome of them have been made public with very little credit to his reputation.

"Parnell appears to me," fays Goldsmith, "to be the laft of that great school that had modelled itself upon the ancients, and taught English poetry to refemble what the generality of mankind have allowed to excel. A ftudious and correct obferver of antiquity, he fet himself to confider nature with the light it lent him; and he found that the more aid he borrowed from the one, the more delightfully he refembled the other. Parnell is ever happy in the felection of his

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images, and fingularly careful in the choice of his fubjects. His poetical language is not lefs correct than his subjects are pleafing. He has confidered the language of poetry as the language of life, and conveys the warmest thoughts in the fimpleft expreffions."

"The general character of Parnell," fays Dr. Johnson, " is, not great extent of comprehenfion, or fertility of mind; of the little that appears, ftill lefs is his own. His praise must be derived from the easy sweetness of his diction; in his verses there is more happiness than pains; he is sprightly with..ut effort, and always delights though he never ravishes; every thing is proper, yet every thing feems cafual. If there is fome appearance of elaboration in the Hermit, the narrative, as it is lefs airy, is lefs pleafing. Of his other compofitions, it is impoffible to say whether they are the productions of nature so excellent as not to want the help of art, or of art fo refined as to resemble

nature.

"This criticism relates only to the pieces published by Pope. Of the large appendages which I found in the laft edition, I can only fay I know not whence they came, nor have ever inquired whither they are going. They ftand upon the faith of the compilers"

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POE M S.

HESIOD: OR, THE RISE OF WOMAN.

!

WHAT ancient times (thofe times we fancy wife)
Have left on long record of woman's rife,
what morals teach it, and what fables hide,
what author wrote it, how that author dy'd,
All these I fing. In Greece they fram'd the tale
In Greece 'twas thought a woman might be frall);
Ye modern beauties! where the poet drew
His fofteft pencil, think he dreamt of you;
And, warn'd by him, ye wanton pens beware
How heav'n's concern'd to vindicate the fair.
'The cafe was Hefiod's; he the fable writ;
Some think with meaning, fome with idle wit:
Perhaps 'tis either, as the ladies pleafe;
I wave the contest, and commence the lays.

In days of yore (no matter where or when,
'Twas ere the low creation (warm'd with men)
That one Prometheus, fprung of heavenly birth,
(Our author's fong can witnefs) liv'd on earth:
He carv'd the turf to mold a manly frame,
And ftole from Jove his animating flame.
The fly contrivance o'er Olympus ran,
When thus the monarch of the stars began:

O vers'd in arts! whofe daring thoughts afpire, To kindle clay with never-dying fire! Enjoy thy glory past, that gift was thine; The next thy creature meets, be fairly mine: And such a gift, a vengeance so design'd, As fuits the counsel of a god to find; A pleasing bofom-cheat, a fpecious ill, Which felt the curfe, yet covets ftill tó feel.

He faid, and Vulcan ftrait the Sire commands, To temper mortar with ætherial hands; In fuch a fhape to mold a rifing fair, As virgin goddesses are proud to wear; To make her eyes with diamond-water fhine, And form her organs for a voice divine. 'Twas thus the Sire ordain'd; the power obey'd; And work'd, and wonder'd at the work he made; The faireft, fofteft, fweetest frame beneath, Now made to feem, now more than seem to breathe.

As Vulcan ends, the cheerful queen of charms Clafp'd the new-panting creature in her arms: VOL. VII,

From that embrace a fine complexion furead,
Where mingled whitenefs glow'd with fofter red,
Then in a kifs fhe breath'd her various arts,
Of trifling prettily with; wounded hearts;
A mind for love, but ftill a changing mind;
The lifp affected, and the glance defign'd;
The fweet confufing blufh, the fecret wink,
The gentle fwimming walk, the courteous fink;
The stare for ftrangeness fit, for fcorn the frown;
For decent yielding, looks declining down;
The practis'd languish, where well feign'd defire
Would own its melting in a mutual fire;
Gay fmiles to comfort; April fhowers to move;
And all the nature, all the art of love.

Gold fcepter'd Juno next exalts the fair;
Her touch endows her with imperious air,
Self-valuing fancy, highly-crefted pride,
Strong fovereign will, and fome defire to chide;
For which, an eloquence, that aims to vex,
With native tropes of anger, arms the fex.
Minerva, fkilful goddefs, train'd the maid
To twirle the fpiudie by the twisting thread;
To fix the loom, inftruct the reeds to part,
Crofs the long weft, and close the web with art,
An ufeful gift; but what profufe expence,
What world of fashions, took its rife from hence!
Young Hermes next, a close contriving god,
Her brows encircled with his ferpent rod;
Then plots and fair excufes fill'd her brain,
The views of breaking amorous vows for gain;
The price of favours; the defigning arts
That aim at riches in contempt of hearts;
And, for a comfort in the marriage life,
The little pilfering temper of a wife.

Full on the fair his beams Apollo flung,
And fond perfuafion tipp'd her eafy tongue,
He gave her words, where oily flattery lays
The pleafing colours of the art of praile;
And wit, to fcandal exquifitely prone,
Which frets another's fpleen to cure its own.

Thofe facred virgins whom the bards revere, Tun'd all her voice, and shed a sweetness there,

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To make her fenfe with double charms abound,
Or make her lively nonfenfe please by found.

To dress the maid the decent graces brought
A robe in all the dies of beauty wrought,
And plac'd their boxes o'er a rich brocade,
Where pictur'd loves on every cover play'd;
Then fpread thofe implements that Vulcan's art
Had fram'd to merit Cytherea's heart;
The wire to curl, the clofe indented comb
To call the locks, that lightly wander, home;
And chief, the mirror, where the ravifh'd maid
Beholds and loves her own reflected fhade.

Fair Flora lent her ftores; the purpled hours
Confin'd her treffes with a wreath of flowers;
Within the wreath arofe a radiant crown;
A veil pellucid hung depending down;
Back roll'd her azure veil with ferpent fold,
The purfled border deck'd the floor with gold.
Her robe (which clofely by the girdle brac'd
Reveal'd the beauties of a flender waist)
Flow'd to the feet, to copy Venus' air,
When Venus' ftatues have a robe to wear.
The new-fprong creature, finish'd thus for harms,
Adjunts her habit, practifes her charms,
With blufhes glows, or fhines with lively fmiles,
Confirms her will, or recollects her wiles:
Then, confcious of her weth, with easy pace
Glides by the glafs, and turning views her face.

A finer flax than what they wrought before, Through time's deep cave, the filer fates explore, Then fix the loom, their fingers nimbly weave, And thus their toil prophetic fongs deceive.

Flow from the rock, my flax and fwiftly flow, Purfue thy thread; the fpindle runs below. A creature fond and changing, fair and vain, The creature woman, rifes now to reign. New beauty blooms, a beauty form'd to fly; New love begins, a love produc'd'to die; New parts diftrefs the troubled fcenes of life, The fondling miftrefs, and the ruling wife.

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Men born to labour, all with pains provide;
Women have time to facrifice to pride:
They want the care of man, their want they know,
And drefs to pleafe with heart-alluring fhow;
The fhow prevailing, for the fway contend,
And make a fervant where they meet a friend.
Thus in a thousand wax-erected forts
A loitering race the pairiful bee fupports;
From fun to fun, from bank to bank he flies,
With honey loads his bag, with wax his thighs;
Fly where he will, at home the race remain,
Prune the filk drefs, and murmuring eat the
gaiii.

Yet here and there we grant a gentle bride,
Whose temper betters by the father's fide;
Unlike the reft that double human care,
Fond to relieve, or resolute to fhare:
Happy the man whom thus his ftars advance!
The curfe is general, but the bleffing chance.

Thus fung the fifters, while the gods admire
Their beauteous creature, made for man în ire';
The young Pandora fhe, whom all contend
To make too perfect not to gain her end:
Then bid the winds, that fly to breathe the spring,
Return to bear her on a gentle wing;

With wafting airs the winds obfequious blow,
And land the fhining vengeance fafe below.
A golden coffer in her hand fhe bore,
The prefent treacherous, but the bearer more;
'Twas fraught with pangs; for Jove ordain'd above,
That gold fhould aid, and pangs attend on love..
Her gay
defcent the nan perceiv'd afar,,
Wondering he ran to catch the falling ftar:
But fo furpris'd, as none but he can tell,
Who lov'd fo quickly, and who lov'd fo well.
O'er all his veins the wandering paffion burns,
He calls her nymph, and every nymph by turns.
Her form to lovely Venus he prefers,

Or fwears that Venus' must be such as hers.
She, proud to rule, yet ftrangely fram'd to teaze,
Neglects his offers while her airs fhe plays,
Shoots fcornful glances from the bended frown,
In brifk diforder trips it up and down;
Then hums a careless tune to lay the storm,
And fits, and blushes, fmiles, and yields, in form.
"Now take what Jove defign'd, fhe foftly

cry'd,

"This box thy portion, and myfelf the bride."
Fir'd with the profpect of the double charnís,
He fnatch'd the box, and bride, with eager arms.
Unhappy man! to whom fo bright she shone,
The fatal gift, her fempting felf, unknown!
The winds were filent, all the waves afleep,
And heaven was trac'd' upon the flattering deep:
But, whilft he looks unmindful of a storm,
And thinks the water wears a ftable formi, ·
What dreadful din around his cars shall rife!
What frowns confufe his picture of the skies!

At first the creature man was fram'd alone,
Lord of himself, and all the world his own.
For him the nymphs in green forfook the woods,
For him the nymphs in blue forfook the floods;
In vain the fatyrs rage, the tritons rave,
They bore him heroes in the fecret cave.
No càre destroy'd, no fick diforder prey'd,
No bending age his fprightly form decay'd,
No wars were known, no females heard to rage,
And, poets tell us, 't was a golden age.

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When woman came, thofe ills the box confin'd Burst furious out, and poifon'd all the wind, From point to point, from pole to pole they flew, Spread as they went, and in the progrefs grew : The nymphs regretting left the mortal race, And altering nature wore a fickly face: New terms of folly rofe, new ftates of care; New plagues, to fuffer, and to pleafe, the fair! The days of whining, and of wild intrigues, Commenc'd, or finish'd, with the breach of leagues; The mean designs of well-diffembled love; The fordid matches never join'd above; Abroad the labour, and at home the noife, (Man's double fufferings for domeftic joys) The curle of jealouly; expence and strife; Divorce, the public brand of fhameful life The rival's fword; the qualm that takes the fair; Disdain for paffion, paffion in defpair These, and a thousand yet unnam'd, we find; Ah fear the thousand yet unnam'd behind¦

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Thús on Parnaffus tuneful, Hefiod, fung,

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The fky grew bright, and (if his verse be true)
The mufes came to give the laurel too.
But what avail'd the verdant prize of wit,
If love swore vengeance for the tales he writ?
Ye fair offended, hear your friend relate
What heavy judgment prov'd the writer's fate,
Though when it happen'd no relation clears,
'Tis thought in five, or five and twenty years.

Where, dark and filent, with a twisted fhade
The neighbouring woods a native arbour made,
There oft a tender pair, for amorous play
Retiring, toy'd the ravish'd hours away;
A Locrian youth, the gentle Troilus he,
A fair Milefian, kind Evanthe fhe:
But fwelling nature in a fatal hour
Betray'd the fecrets of the confcious bower;
The dire difgrace her brothers count their own,
And track hér fteps, to make its author known.

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It chanc'd one evening, 't was the lover's day, Conceal'd in brakes the jealous kindred lay; When Hefiod, wandering, mus'd along the plain, And fix'd his feat where love had fix'd the scene; A ftrong fufpicion ftrait poffefs their mind (For Poets ever were a gentle kind), But when Evanthe near the paffage ftood, Flung back a doubtful look, and fhot the wood, "Now take (at once they cry) thy due reward.” And, urg'd with erring rage, affault the bard. His corpfe the fea receiv'd. The dolphins bore ('was all the gods would do) the corpfe to fhore. Methinks I view the dead with pitying eyes, And see the dreams of ancient wifdom rife; I see the muses round the body cry, But hear a cupid loudly laughing by; He wheels his arrow with infulting hand, And thus infcribes the moral on the fand. "Here Hefiod lies: ye future bards, beware "How far your moral tales incenfe the fair. "Unlov'd, unloving, 't was his fate to bleed; "Without his quiver, Cupid caus'd the deed: "He judg'd this turn of malice justly due, "And Hefiod dy'd for joys he never knew."

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And thus, might I gratify both, I would do: Still an angel appear to each lover beside, But ftill be a woman to you.

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