THE FEMINEAD : OR FEMALE GENIUS . WRITTEN IN THE YEAR MDCCLI . BY JOHN DUNCOMBE , M. A. SHall lordly man , the theme of every lay , Usurp the Muse's tributary bay ? In kingly state on Pindus' summit sit , Tyrant of verse , and arbiter of wit ? By Salic law the female right deny , And view their genius with regardless eye ? Justice forbid ! and every muse inspire To sing the glories of a sister-choir ! Rise , rise , bold swain ; and to the listening grove Resound the praises of the sex you love ; Tell how , adorn'd with every charm , they shine , In mind and person equally divine , Till man , no more to female merit blind , Admire the person , but adore the mind . To these weak strains , O thou ! the sex's friend And constant patron , The author of those three celebrated works , Pamela , Clarissa , and Sir Charles Grandison . Richardson ! attend : Thou , who so oft with pleas'd , but anxious care , Hast watch'd the dawning genius of the fair , With wonted smiles wilt hear thy friend display The various graces of the female lay ; Studious from Folly's yoke their minds to free , And aid the generous cause espous'd by thee . Long o'er the world did Prejudice maintain , By sounds like these , her undisputed reign : " Woman ! she cried , to thee , indulgent Heaven " Has all the charms of outward beauty given : " Be thine the boast , unrival'd , to enslave " The great , the wise , the witty , and the brave ; " Deck'd with the Paphian rose's damask glow , " And the vale-lily's vegetable snow , " Be thine , to move majestic in the dance , " To roll the eye , and aim the tender glance , " Or touch the strings , and breathe the melting song , " Content to emulate that airy throng , " Who to the sun their painted plumes display , " And gaily glitter on the hawthorn spray , " Or wildly warble in the beechen grove , " Careless of aught but music , joy , and love . " Heavens ! could such artful , slavish sounds beguile The free-born sons of Britain's polish'd isle ? Could they , like fam'd Ulysses' dastard crew , Attentive listen , and enamour'd view , Nor drive the Syren to that dreary plain , In loathsome pomp , where eastern tyrants reign ; Where each fair neck the yoke of slavery galls , Clos'd in a proud seraglio's gloomy walls , And taught , that levell'd with the brutal kind , Nor sense , nor souls to women are assign'd . Our British nymphs with happier omens rove , At freedom's call , thro' wisdom's sacred grove , And , as with lavish hand each sister grace Shapes the fair form , and regulates the face , Each sister muse , in blissful union join'd , Adorns , improves , and beautifies the mind . Ev'n now fond Fancy in our polish'd land Assembled shews a blooming , studious band : With various arts our reverence they engage , Some turn the tuneful , some the moral page ; These , led by Contemplation , soar on high , And range the Heavens with philosophic eye ; While those , surrounded by a vocal choir , The canvas tinge , or touch the warbling lyre . Here , like the stars 'mix'd radiance , they unite To dazzle and perplex our wandering sight : The muse each charmer singly shall survey , And tune to each her tributary lay . So when , in blended tints , with sweet surprize Assembled beauties strike our ravish'd eyes , Such as in Lely's melting colours shine , Or spring , great Kneller ! from a hand like thine , On all with pleasing awe at once we gaze , And , lost in wonder , know not which to praise , But , singly view'd , each nymph delights us more , Disclosing graces unperceiv'd before . First let the muse with generous ardor try To chase the mist from dark opinion's eye : Nor mean we here to blame that father's care , Who guards from learned wives his booby heir , Since oft that heir with prudence has been known To dread a genius that transcends his own : The wise themselves should with discretion chuse , Since letter'd nymphs their knowledge may abuse , And husbands oft experience to their cost The prudent housewife in the scholar lost : But those incur deserv'd contempt , who prize Their own high talents , and their sex despise , With haughty mien each social bliss defeat , And sully all their learning with conceit : Of such the parent justly warns his son , And such the muse herself will bid him shun . But lives there one , whose unassuming mind , Tho' grac'd by nature , and by art refin'd , Pleas'd with domestic excellence , can spare Some hours from studious ease to social care , And with her pen that time alone employs Which others waste in visits , cards , and noise ; From affectation free , tho' deeply read , " With wit well natur'd , and with books well bred ? " With such ( and such there are ) each happy day Must fly improving , and improv'd away ; Inconstancy might fix and settle there , And wisdom's voice approve the chosen fair . Nor need we now from our own Britain rove , In search of Genius , to the Lesbian grove , Tho' Sappho there her tuneful lyre has strung , And amorous griefs in sweetest accents sung , Since here , in Charles's days , amidst a train Of shameless bards , licentious and profane , The chaste Mrs. Catherine Philips : she was distinguished by most of the wits of king Charles's reign , and died young . Her pieces on friendship are particularly admired . Orinda rose ; with purer light , Like modest Cynthia , beaming thro' the night : Fair Friendship's lustre , undisguis'd by art , Glows in her lines , and animates her heart ; Friendship , that jewel , which , tho' all confess Its peerless value , yet how few possess ! For her the never-dying myrtle weaves A verdant chaplet of her odorous leaves ; If Cowley's or Roscommon's song can give Immortal fame , her praise shall ever live . Who can unmov'd near Anne countess of Winchelsea , a lady of great wit and genius , wrote ( among others ) a poem , much admired , on the Spleen , and is praised by Mr. Pope , &c. under the poetical name of Ardelia . Winchelsea reveal Thy horrors , Spleen ! which all , who paint , must feel ? My praises would but wrong her sterling wit , Since Pope himself applauds what she has writ . But say , what matron now walks musing forth From the bleak mountains of her native North ? While round her brows two sisters of the Nine Poetic wreaths with philosophic twine ! Hail , Mrs. Catherine Cockburne was the wife of a clergyman , lived obscurely , and died a few years ago in an advanced age in Northumberland ; her works on dramatic , philosophical , and sacred subjects have been lately collected by the learned Dr. Birch , and are generally admired . Cockburne , hail ! ev'n now from Reason's bowers Thy Locke delighted culls the choicest flowers To deck his great , successful champion's head , And Clarke expects thee in the laurel shade . Tho' long to dark , oblivious want a prey , Thy aged worth pass'd unperceiv'd away , Yet Scotland now shall ever boast thy fame , While England mourns thy undistinguish'd name , And views with wonder , in a female mind , Philosopher , divine , and poet join'd ! The modest muse a veil with pity throws O'er vice's friends , and virtue's female foes ; Abash'd she views the bold unblushing mien Of modern The first of these wrote the scandalous memoirs called Atalantis , and the other two are notorious for the indecency of their plays . Manley , Centlivre , and Behn ; And grieves to see one nobly born disgrace Her modest sex , and her illustrious race . Tho' harmony thro' all their numbers flow'd , And genuine wit its every grace bestow'd , Nor genuine wit , nor harmony , excuse The dangerous sallies of a wanton muse : Nor can such tuneful , but immoral , lays Expect the tribute of impartial praise : As soon might These three ladies have endeavoured to immortalize their shame by writing their own memoirs . Philips , Pilkington , and V— Deserv'd applause for spotless virtue gain . But hark ! what The character of Mrs. Rowe and her writings is too well known to be dwelt on here . It may be sufficient to say , that without any previous illness she met at last with that sudden death for which she had always wished . nymph , in Frome's embroider'd vale , With strains seraphic swells the vernal gale ? With what sweet sounds the bordering forest rings ? For sportive Echo catches , as she sings , Each falling accent , studious to prolong The warbled notes of Rowe's ecstatic song . Old Avon pleas'd his reedy forehead rears , And polish'd Orrery delighted hears . See with what transport she resigns her breath , Snatch'd by a sudden , but a wish'd-for death ! Releas'd from earth , with smiles she soars on high Amidst her kindred spirits of the sky , Where faith and love those endless joys bestow , That warm'd her lays , and fill'd her hopes below . Nor can her noble Frances , Countess of Hertford , and afterwards dutchess dowager of Somerset , Mrs. Rowe's illustrious friend , lamented her death in some verses prefixed to her poems , and was author of the letters in her collection signed Cleora . friend escape unseen , Or from the muse her modest virtues screen ; Here , sweetly blended , to our wondering eyes , The peeress , poetess , and Christian rise : And tho' the Nine her tuneful strains inspire , We less her genius , than her heart , admire , Pleas'd , 'midst the great , one truly good to see , And proud to tell that Somerset is she . By generous views one Anne , viscountess Irwin , and aunt to the present earl of Carlisle : this lady , in a poetical epistle to Mr. Pope , has rescued her sex's cause from the aspersions cast on them by that satyrist in his essay on the characters of women . pceress more demands A grateful tribute from all female hands ; One , who to shield them from the worst of foes , In their just cause dar'd Pope himself oppose . Their own dark forms deceit and envy wear , By Irwin touch'd with See Milton , book iv . ver. 811. truth's celestial spear . By her disarm'd , ye witlings ! now give o'er Your empty sneers , and shock the sex no more . Thus bold Camilla , when the Trojan chief Attack'd her country , flew to its relief ; Beneath her lance the bravest warriors bled , And fear dismay'd the host which great Aeneas led . But ah ! why heaves my breast this pensive sigh ? Why starts this tear unbidden from my eye ? What breast from sighs , what eye from tears refrains , When , sweetly-mournful , hapless Mrs. Wright , sister to the famous Wesleys , has published some pieces , which , tho' of a melancholy cast , are written in the genuine spirit of poetry . Wright complains ? And who but grieves to see her generous mind , For nobler views and worthier guests design'd , Admit the hateful form of black despair , Wan with the gloom of superstitious care ? In pity-moving lays , with earnest cries , She call'd on Heaven to close her weary eyes , And , long on earth by heart-felt woes opprest , Was borne by friendly death to welcome rest . In nervous strains , lo ! Mrs. Madan is author of a poem called the Progress of Poetry , wherein the characters of the best Grecian , Roman , and English poets are justly and elegantly drawn . Madan's polish'd taste Has poetry's successive progress trac'd , From antient Greece , where first she fix'd her reign , To Italy , and Britain's happier plain . Praise well-bestow'd adorns her glowing lines , And manly strength with female softness joins . So female charms and manly virtues grace , By her example form'd , her blooming race , And , fram'd alike to please our ears and eyes , There new Cornelias and new Gracchi rise . O that you now , with genius at command , Would snatch the penc l from my artless hand , And give your sex's portraits , bold and true , In colours worthy of themselves and you ! Now in ecstatic visions let me rove , By Cynthia's beams , thro' Brackley's glimmering grove , Where still each night , by startled shepherds seen , Young Mrs. Leapor , daughter to a Northamptonshire gardener , has lately convinced the world of the force of unassisted nature , by imitating and equalling some of our most approved poets , by the strength of her parts , and the vivacity of her genius . Leapor's form flies shadowy o'er the green . Those envied honours nature lov'd to pay The briar-bound turf , where erst her Shakespear lay , Now on her darling Mira she bestows ; There o'er the hallow'd ground she fondly strows The choicest fragrance of the breathing spring , And bids each year her favourite linnet sing . Let cloister'd pedants , in an endless round , Tread the dull mazes of scholastic ground ; Brackley unenvying views the glittering train Of learning's useless trappings idly vain ; For , spite of all that vaunted learning's aid , Their fame is rivall'd by her rural maid . So , while in our Britannia's beechen sprays Sweet Philomela trills her mellow lays , We to the natives of the sultry line Their boasted race of parrots pleas'd resign : For tho' on citron boughs they proudly glow With all the colours of the watery bow , Yet thro' the grove harsh discord they prolong , Tho' rich in gaudy plumage , poor in song . Now bear me , Clio , to that Kentish strand , Whose rude o'erhanging cliffs and barren sand May challenge all the myrtle-blooming bowers Of fam'd Italia , when , at evening hours , Thy own Mrs. Eliza Carter of Deal , well known to the learned world for her late translation of Epictetus , has translated , from the Italian , Algarotti's dialogues on light and colours ; and lately published a small collection of elegant poems . Eliza muses on the shore , Serene , tho' billows beat , and tempests roar . Hail , Carter , hail ! your favourite name inspires My raptur'd breast with sympathetic fires ; Ev'n now I see your lov'd Ilyssus lead His mazy current thro' th' Athenian mead ; With you I pierce thro' academic shades , And join in Attic bowers th' Aonian maids ; Beneath the spreading plane with Plato rove , And hear his morals echo thro' the grove . Joy sparkles in the sage's looks , to find His genius glowing in a female mind ; Newton admiring sees your searching eye Dart thro' his mystic page , and range the sky ; By you his colours to your sex are shown , And Algarotti's name to Britain known . While , undisturb'd by pride , you calmly tread Thro' life's perplexing paths , by wisdom led ; And , taught by her , your grateful muse repays Her heavenly teacher in nocturnal lays . So when Prometheus from th' Almighty Sire , As sings the fable , stole celestial fire , Swift thro' the clay the vital current ran , In look , in form , in speech resembling man ; But in each eye a living lustre glow'd , That spoke the heavenly source from whence it flow'd . " What magic powers in We could not here , with justice , with-hold our tribute of praise from Mrs. Brooke , author of the tragedy of Virginia . Celia's numbers dwell , " Which thus th' unpractis'd breast with ardor swell " To emulate her praise , and tune that lyre " Which yet no bard was able to inspire ! " With tears her suffering Virgin we attend , " And sympathize with father , lover , friend ! " What sacred rapture in our bosom glows , " When at the shrine she offers up her vows ! " Mild majesty and virtue's awful power " Adorn her fall , and grace her latest hour . " Transport me now to those embroider'd meads , Where the slow Ouze his lazy current leads ; There , while the stream soft-dimpling steals along , And from the groves the green-hair'd Dryads throng , Clio herself , or This lady has written two beautiful odes to Cynthia and the Spring . Ferrar tunes a lay , Sweet as the darkling Philomel of May . Haste , haste , ye Nine , and hear a sister sing The charms of Cynthia , and the joys of spring : See ! night's pale goddess with a grateful beam Paints her lov'd image in the shadowy stream , While , round his votary , spring profusely showers " A snow of blossoms , and a wild of flowers . " O happy nymph , tho' winter o'er thy head , Blind to that form , the snow of age shall shed ; Tho' life's short spring and beauty's blossoms fade , Still shall thy reason flourish undecay'd ; Time , tho' he steals the roseate bloom of youth , Shall spare the charms of virtue and of truth , And on thy mind new charms , new bloom bestow , Wisdom's best friend , and only beauty's foe . Nor shall thy much-lov'd Mrs. Pennington has happily imitated Mr. Philips's Splendid Shilling , in a burlesque poem called The Copper Farthing . Pennington remain Unsung , unhonour'd in my votive strain . See where the soft enchantress , wandering o'er The fairy ground that Philips trod before , Exalts her chymic wand , and swift behold The basest metals ripen into gold : Beneath her magic touch , with wondering eye , We view vile copper with pure sterling vie ; Nor shall the farthing , sung by her , forbear To claim the praises of the smiling fair ; Till chuck and marble shall no more employ The thoughtless leisure of the truant boy . Returning now to Thames's flowery side , See how his waves in still attention glide ! And , hark ! what songstress shakes her warbling throat ? Is it the nightingale , or This lady has written odes to Peace , Health , and the Robin Redbreast , which are here alluded to ; and she has been celebrated in a sonnet by Mr. Edwards , author of the Canons of Criticism . Delia's note ? The balmy zephyrs , hovering o'er the fair , On their soft wings the vocal accents bear ; Thro' Sunbury's low vale the strains rebound , Ev'n neighbouring Chertsey hears the chearful sound , And wondering sees her Cowley's laurel'd shade Transported listen to the tuneful maid . O may those nymphs , whose pleasing power she sings , Still o'er their suppliant wave their fostering wings ! O long may Health and soft-ey'd Peace impart Bloom to her cheek , and rapture to her heart ! Beneath her roof the red-breast shall prolong , Unchill'd by frosts , his tributary song ; For her the lark shall wake the dappled morn , And linnet twitter from the blossom'd thorn . Sing on , sweet maid ! thy Spenser smiles to see Kind Fancy shed her choicest gifts on thee , And bids his Edwards , on the laurel spray That shades his tomb , inscribe thy rural lay . With lovely mien This lady has successfully applied herself to the sister arts of drawing and poetry , and has written an ingenious allegory , wherein two pilgrims , Fidelio and Honoria , after a fruitless search for the palace of Happiness , are at last conducted to the house of Content . Eugenia now appears , The muse's pupil from her tenderest years ; Improving tasks her peaceful hours beguile , The sister arts on all her labours smile , And while the Nine their votary inspire , " One dips the pencil , and one strings the lyre . " O may her life's clear current smoothly glide , Unruffled by misfortune's boisterous tide ! So while the charmer leads her blameless days With that content which she so well displays , Her own Honoria we in her shall view , And think her allegoric vision true . Thus wandering wild among the golden grain That fruitful floats on Bansted's airy plain , Careless I sung , while summer's western gale Breath'd health and fragrance thro' the dusky vale ; When from a neighbouring hawthorn , in whose shade Conceal'd she lay , up-rose th' Aonian maid : Pleas'd had she listen'd ; and , with smiles , she cried , " Cease , friendly swain ! be this thy praise and pride , " That thou , of all the numerous tuneful throng , " First in our cause hast fram'd thy generous song . " And ye , our sister choir ! proceed to tread " The flowery paths of fame , by science led ! " Employ by turns the needle and the pen , " And in their favourite studies rival men ! " May all our sex your glorious track pursue , " And keep your bright example still in view ! " These lasting beauties will in youth engage , " And smooth the wrinkles of deelining age , " Secure to bloom , unconscious of decay , " When all Corinna's roses fade away . " For ev'n when love's short triumph shall be o'er , " When youth shall please , and beauty charm no more , " When man shall cease to slatter ; when the eye " Shall cease to sparkle , and the heart to sigh , " In that dread hour , when parent dust shall claim " The lifeless tribute of each kindred frame , " Ev'n then shall wisdom for her chosen fair " The fragrant wreaths of virtuous fame prepare ; " Those wreaths which flourish in a happier clime . " Beyond the reach of envy and of time ; " While here , th' immortalizing muse shall save " Your darling names from dark Oblivion's grave ; " Those names the praise and wonder shall engage " Of every polish'd , wise , and virtuous age ; " To latest times our annals shall adorn , " And save from folly thousands yet unborn . "