[Footnote 1:  Tickell’s Preface to Addison’s works.]

[Footnote 2:  Tickell.  Ubi supra.]

[Footnote 3:  Budgel’s Memoirs of the Boyles.]

[Footnote 4:  Tickell’s Preface.]

* * * * *

Anne, Countess of Winchelsea.

This lady, deservedly celebrated for her poetic genius, was daughter of Sir William Kingsmill of Sidmonton, in the county of Southampton.  She was Maid of Honour to the Duchess of York, second wife to King James ii. and was afterwards married to Heneage earl of Winchelsea, who was in his father’s life-time Gentleman of the Bed-chamber to the Duke of York.

One of the most considerable of this lady’s poems, is that upon the Spleen, published by Mr. Charles Gildon, 1701, in 8vo.  That poem occasioned another of Mr. Nicholas Rowe’s, entitled an Epistle to Flavia, on the sight of two Pindaric Odes on the Spleen and Vanity, written by a Lady to her Friend.  This poem of the Spleen is written in stanzas, after the manner of Cowley, and contains many thoughts naturally expressed, and poetically conceived; there is seldom to be found any thing more excellently picturesque than this poem, and it justly entitles the amiable countess to hold a very high station amongst the inspired tribe.  Nothing can be more happily imagined than the following description of the pretended influence of Spleen upon surly Husbands, and gay Coquetes.

  Patron thou art of every gross abuse;
  The sullen husband’s feign’d excuse,
  When the ill humours with his wife he spends,
  And bears recruited wit, and spirits to his friends
  The son of Bacchus pleads thy pow’r
    As to the glass he still repairs
    Pretends but to remove thy cares,
  Snatch from thy shades, one gay, and smiling hour,
  And drown thy kingdom in a purple show’r. 
  When the coquette (whom ev’ry fool admires)
    Would in variety be fair;
    And changing hastily the scene,
    From light, impertinent, and vain,
    Assumes a soft, a melancholy air
  And of her eyes rebates the wand’ring fires,
  The careless posture, and the head reclin’d
  (Proclaiming the withdrawn, the absent mind)
    Allows the fop more liberty to gaze;
    Who gently for the tender cause enquires;
  The cause indeed is a defect of sense,
  Yet is the Spleen alledged, and still the dull pretence.

The influence which Spleen has over religious minds, is admirably painted in the next stanza.

    By spleen, religion, all we know;
    That should enlighten here below,
  Is veiled in darkness, and perplext
  With anxious doubts, with endless scruples vext
  And some restraint imply’d from each perverted text;
  Whilst touch not, taste not what is freely given,
  Is but thy niggard voice disgracing bounteous Heaven. 
  From speech restrain’d, by the deceits abus’d,
  To desarts banish’d; or in cells reclus’d,
  Mistaken vot’ries, to the powers divine,
  Whilst they a purer sacrifice design,
  Do but the spleen obey, and worship at thy shrine.