excellent colouring and formation of
her features, painting; but still, like yours, drawn by the inimitable
pencil of nature, life itself; a pattern for the greatest master, but
copying after none; I will not say angels are not cast in the same
mould.' And again in another place, 'Pardon, O lovely deity, the
presumption of this address, and favour my weak endeavours. If my
confession of your divine power is any where too faint, believe it not
to proceed from a want of due respect, but of a capacity more than
human. Whoever thinks of you can no longer be himself; and if he could,
ought to be something above man to celebrate the accomplishment of a
goddess. To you I owe my creation as a lover, and in the beams of your
beauty only I live, move, and exist. If there should be a suspension of
your charms, I should fall to nothing. But it seems to be out of your
power to deprive us of their kind influence; wherever you shine they
fill all our hearts, and you are charming out of necessity, as the
author of nature is good.' We have quoted enough to shew the enthusiasm,
or rather phrenzy, of this address, which is written in such a manner as
if it were intended for a burlesque on the False Sublime, as the
speeches of James I. are upon pedantry.

Mr. Croxall, who was intended for holy orders, and, probably, when he
published the Circassian, had really entered into them, was cautious
lest he should be known to be the author of this piece, since many
divines have esteemed the Song of Solomon, from which it is taken, as an
inspired poem, emblematic of the Messiah and the Church. Our author was
of another opinion, and with him almost all sensible men join, in
believing that it is no more than a beautiful poem, composed by that
Eastern monarch, upon some favourite lady in his Seraglio. He artfully
introduces it with a preface, in which he informs us, that it was the
composition of a young gentleman, his pupil, lately deceased, executed
by him, while he was influenced by that violent passion with which Mrs.
Mordaunt inspired him. He then endeavours to ascertain who this Eastern
beauty was, who had charms to enflame the heart of the royal poet. He is
of opinion it could not be Pharaoh's daughter, as has been commonly
conjectured, because the bride in the Canticles is characterised as a
private person, a shepherdess, one that kept a vineyard, and was ill
used by her mother's children, all which will agree very well with
somebody else, but