The Lives of the Poets of Great Britain and Ireland (1753) - Vol. IV | Page 8

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!
[A]In Titian's colours whilst Adonis glows,
See fairest Bristol more
than Venus shows;
View well the valu'd piece, how nice each part;

Yet nature's hand surpasses Titian's art!
Such had his Venus and
Adonis been,
The standard beauty had from thence been seen!

Whose arbitrary laws had fix'd the doom
To Hervey's form, and
Bristol's ever bloom!
[B]As once Kazeia, now Eliza warms
The kindred-fair bequeath'd her
all her charms;
Such were her darts, so piercing and so strong,

Endow'd by Phoebus both, with tuneful song;
But far from thee Eliza
be her doom;
Snatch'd hence by death, in all her beauty's bloom.

Long may'st thou live, adorning Bristol's name,
With future heroes to
augment his fame.
When haughty Niobe, with joy and pride,
Saw all her shining
offspring grace her side;
She view'd their charms, exulting at each
line,
And then oppos'd 'em to the race divine!
Enrag'd Latona urg'd
the silver bow:
Immortal vengeance laid their beauties low.
No
more a mother now--too much she mourn'd,
By grief incessant into
marble turn'd.

But lovely Bristol, with a pious mind,
Owns all her blessings are
from Heav'n assign'd.
Her matchless Lord--her beauteous numerous
race!
Her virtue, modesty, and ev'ry grace!
For these, devoutly, to
the gods she bows,
And offers daily praise, and daily vows:

Phoebus, well-pleas'd, the sacrifice regards;
And thus the grateful
mother's zeal rewards:
'Beauty and wit, to all of Bristol's line!
But
each in some peculiar grace shall shine!
Or to excel in courts, and
please the fair!
Or Conquest gain thro' all the wat'ry war!
With
harmony divine the ear to charm!
Or souls with more melodious
numbers warm!
By wond'rous memory shall some excel
In awful
senates, and in speaking well!
To hold Astræa's scales with equal
hand,
And call back justice to that happy land!
To teach mankind
how best the gods to praise!
To fix their minds in truth's unerring
ways!
'Thus all her honours, Bristol's sons shall wear,
Whilst each his
country's good shall make his chiefest care!'
[Footnote A: This is not designed as a parallel of the story, but the
painting from a piece of Titian's, at my lord Bristol's.]
[Footnote B: A sister of lord Bristol's, who was a lady of most
extraordinary beauty.]

HENRY NEEDLER,
This Poet was born at Harley in Surry, in the year 1690, and educated
at a private school at Ryegate in the same county[A]. He was removed
from thence in 1705, and in 1708 accepted a small place in a public
office; where he continued the remainder of his days.
About this time contracting a friendship with a gentleman of a like taste,
who furnished him with proper books, he