VI.  Poems on several Occasions.  There are very few of these, and what there are, are of little note.  Her poetical talent was the smallest and least valuable of our author’s literary accomplishments.

FOOTNOTES: 

[1] Historia Mulierum Philosopharum. 8vo.  Lyons. 1690.

[2] Dr. Birch mentions also Mr. Higgons’s verses on this occasion, and
    gives a copy of a complimentary letter to our author, from Mr.
    George Farquhar.

[3] Author of an excellent pamphlet, entitled, Two Dissertations
    concerning the Etymology and Scripture-meaning of the Hebrew Words
    Elohim and Berith.  Vide Monthly Review.

* * * * *

AMBROSE PHILLIPS, ESQ;

This Gentleman was descended from a very ancient, and considerable family in the county of Leicester, and received his education in St. John’s college Cambridge, where he wrote his Pastorals, a species of excellence, in which he is thought to have remarkably distinguished himself.  When Mr. Philips quitted the university, and repaired to the metropolis, he became, as Mr. Jacob phrases it, one of the wits at Buttons; and in consequence of this, contracted an acquaintance with those bright genius’s who frequented it; especially Sir Richard Steele, who in the first volume of his Tatler inserts a little poem of this author’s dated from Copenhagen, which he calls a winter piece; Sir Richard thus mentions it with honour.  ’This is as fine a piece, as we ever had from any of the schools of the most learned painters; such images as these give us a new pleasure in our fight, and fix upon our minds traces of reflexion, which accompany us wherever the like objects occur.’

This short performance which we shall here insert, was reckoned so elegant, by men of taste then living, that Mr. Pope himself, who had a confirmed aversion to Philips, when he affected to despise his other works, always excepted this out of the number.

It is written from Copenhagen, addressed to the Earl of Dorset, and dated the 9th of May 1709.

  A WINTER PIECE.

    From frozen climes, and endless tracks of snow,
  From streams that northern winds forbid to flow;
  What present shall the Muse to Dorset bring,
  Or how, so near the Pole, attempt to sing? 
  The hoary winter here conceals from sight,
  All pleasing objects that to verse invite. 
  The hills and dales, and the delightful woods,
  The flow’ry plains, and silver streaming floods,
  By snow distinguished in bright confusion lie,
  And with one dazling waste, fatigue the eye.

    No gentle breathing breeze prepares the spring,
  No birds within the desart region sing. 
  The ships unmov’d the boist’rous winds defy,
  While rattling chariots o’er the ocean fly. 
  The vast Leviathan wants room to play,
  And spout his waters in the face of day. 
  The starving wolves along the main sea prowl,
  And to the moon in icy valleys howl,
  For many a shining league the level main,
  Here spreads itself into a glassy plain: 
  There solid billows of enormous size,
  Alps of green ice, in wild disorder rise.