[According to the old and laudable usage of Editors, we shall now present our Readers with the judgments of the learned concerning our Poets.—These Testimonies, if they proceed from critical pens, cannot fail to have due influence on all impartial observers. They pass an author from one end of the kingdom to the other, as rapidly as the pauper Certificates of Magistracy.—Indeed, it were much to be wished, that as we have no State Licenser of Poetry, it might at least be made penal, to put forth rhymes without previously producing a certain number of sureties for their goodness and utility; which precaution, if assisted with a few other regulations, such as requiring all Practitioners in Verse to take out a License, in the manner of many other Dealers in Spirits, &c. could not fail to introduce good order among this class of authors, and also to bring in a handsome sum towards the aid of the public revenue.—Happy indeed will be those Bards, who are supplied with as reputable vouchers as those which are here subjoined.]

Testimonies of Sir JOSEPH MAWBEY’s good Parts for Poetry.

MISS HANNAH MORE.

“Sir JOSEPH, with the gentlest sympathy, begged me to contrive that he should meet Lactilla, in her morning walk, towards the Hot-Wells. I took the proper measures for this tÊte-À-tÊte between my two naturals, as I call this uneducated couple.—It succeeded beyond my utmost hopes.—For the first ten minutes they exchanged a world of simple observations on the different species of the brute creation, to which each had most obligations.—Lactilla praised her Cows—Sir Joseph his Hogs.—An artless eclogue, my dear madam, but warm from the heart.—At last the Muse took her turn on the tapis of simple dialogue.—In an instant both kindled into all the fervors—the delightful fervors, that are better imagined than described.—Suffice it to relate the sequel—Lactilla pocketed a generous half-crown, and Sir Joseph was inchanted! Heavens! what would this amiable Baronet have been, with the education of a curate?”

Miss Hannah More’s Letter to the Duchess of Chandos.

* * * * *

OF THE SAME.

By JONAS HANWAY, Esq.

“In short, these poor children who are employed in sweeping our chimnies, are not treated half so well as so many black Pigs—nor, indeed, a hundredth part so well, where the latter have the good fortune to belong to a benevolent master, such as Sir Joseph MAWBEY—a man who, notwithstanding he is a bright Magistrate, a diligent Voter in Parliament, and a chaste husband, is nevertheless author of not a few fancies in the poetical way.”

Thoughts on our savage Treatment of Chimney-sweepers.

* * * * *

Testimonies in Favour of Sir CECIL WRAY, Bart.

DR. STRATFORD[1].

ALCANDER, thou’rt a God, more than a God!
Thou’rt pride of all the Gods—thou mount’st by woes—
Hell squeaks, Eurus and Auster shake the skies—
Yet shall thy barge dance through the hissing wave,
And on the foaming billows float to heaven!

Epistle to Sir Cecil Wray, under the
Character of Alcander.

[1] Author of 58 Tragedies, only one of which, to the disgrace of our Theatres, has yet appeared.

* * * * *

OF THE SAME.

By MRS. GEORGE ANNE BELLAMY.

“I was sitting one evening (as indeed I was wont to do when out of cash) astride the ballustrade of Westminster-bridge, with my favourite little dog under my arm. I had that day parted with my diamond windmill.—Life was never very dear to me—but a thousand thoughts then rushed into my heart, to jump this world, and spring into eternity.—I determined that my faithful Pompey should bear me company.—I pressed him close, and actually stretched out, fully resolved to plunge into the stream; when, luckily (ought I to call it so?) that charming fellow (for such he then was), Sir Cecil WRAY, catching hold of Pompey’s tail, pulled him back, and with him pulled back me.—In a moment I found myself in a clean hackney-coach, drawn by grey horses, with a remarkable civil coachman, fainting in my Cecil’s arms; and though I then lost a little diamond pin, yet (contrary to what I hear has been asserted) I NEVER prosecuted that gallant Baronet; who, in less than a fortnight after, with his usual wit and genius, dispatched me the following extempore poem:

While you prepar’d, dear Anne, on Styx to sail—
Lo! one dog sav’d you by another’s tail.

To which, in little more than a month, I penned, and sent the following reply:

You pinch’d my dog, ’tis true, and check’d my sail—
But then my pin—ah, there you squeezed my tail.

Ninth volume of Mrs. George Anne Bellamy’s Apology,
now preparing for the press.

* * * * *

Testimony of the great Parts of CONSTANTINE, LORD MULGRAVE, and his Brethren.

MR. BOSWELL.

“Among those who will vote for continuing the old established number of our Session Justices, may I not count on the tribe of Phipps.—they love good places; and I know Mulgrave is a bit of a poet as well as myself; for I dined in company once, where he dined that very day twelvemonth. My excellent wife, who is a true Montgomery, and whom I like now as well as I did twenty years ago, adores the man who felt for the maternal pangs of a whelpless bear. For my own part, however, there is no action I more constantly ridicule, than his Lordship’s preposterous pity for those very sufferings which he himself occasioned, by ordering his sailors to shoot the young bears.——But though I laugh at him, how handsome will it be if he votes against Dundas to oblige me. My disliking him and his family is no reason for his disliking me—on the contrary, if he opposes us, is it not probable that that great young man, whom I sincerely adore, may say, in his own lofty language, “Mulgrave, Mulgrave, don’t vex the Scotch!—don’t provoke ’em! God damn your ugly head!—if we don’t crouch to Bute, we shall all be turned out; God eternally damn you for a stupid boar! I know we shall! Pardon me, great Sir, for presuming to forge the omnipotent bolts of your Incomparable thunder.”

Appendix to Mr. Baswell’s Pamphlet on the Scotch Judges.

* * * * *

Testimony of NATHANIEL WILLIAM WRAXALL, Esq. his great Merit.

LORD MONBODDO.

“Since I put forth my last volume, I have read the excellent Ode of Mr. Wraxall, and was pleased to find that bold apostrophe in his delicious lyric,

“Hail, Ouran Outangs! Hail, Anthropophagi!”

“My principles are now pretty universally known; but on this occasion I will repeat them succinctly. I believe, from the bottom of my soul, that all mankind are absolute Ouran Outangs. That the feudal tenures are the great cause of our not retaining the perfect appearance of Ourans—That human beings originally moved on all fours—That we had better move in the same way again—That there has been giants ninety feet high—That such giants ought to have moved on all fours—That we all continue to be Ouran Outangs still—some more so, some less—but that Nathaniel William WRAXALL, Esq. is the truest Ouran Outang in Great Britain, and therefore ought immediately to take to all fours, and especially to make all his motions in Parliament in that way.”

Postscript to Lard Monboddo’s Ancient Metaphysics.

* * * * *

Testimony of the Great Powers for Poesy, innate in MICHAEL ANGELO TAYLOR, Esq.

DR. BURNEY.

I shall myself compose Mr. Taylor’s Ode——His merit I admire——his origin I have traced.—He is descended from Mr. John Taylor, the famous Water Poet, who with good natural talents, never proceeded farther in education than his accidence.—John Taylor was born in Gloucestershire.—I find that he was bound apprentice to a Waterman—but in process of time kept a public house in Phoenix-alley, Long-acre[1]. Read John’s modest recital of his humble culture—

“I must confess I do want eloquence,
And never scarce did learn my Accidence;
For having got from Possum to Posset,
I there was gravell’d, nor could farther get.”

John wrote fourscore books, but died in 1654. Here you have John’s
Epitaph—

“Here lies the Water Poet, honest John,
Who rowed on the streams of Helicon;
Where, having many rocks and dangers past,
He at the haven of heav’n arrived at last.”

There is a print of John, holding an oar in one hand, and an empty purse in the other.—Motto—Et habeo, meaning the oar—Et careo, meaning the cash.—It is too bold a venture to predict a close analogy ’twixt John and Michael—Sure am I,

If Michael goeth on, as Michael hath begun,
Michael will equal be to famous Taylor John.

I shall publish both the Taylor’s works, with the score of Michael’s
Ode, some short time hence, in as thin a quarto as my Handel’s
Commemoration, price one guinea in boards, with a view of John’s
house in Phoenix-alley, and Sir Robert’s carriage, as Sheriff of
London and Middlesex.

[1] This anecdote was majestically inserted in my manuscript copy of Handel’s Commemoration, by that Great Personage to whose judgment I submitted it. (I take every occasion of shewing the insertion as a good puff.—I wish, however, the same hand had subscribed for the book..) I did not publish any of the said alterations in that work, reserving some of them for my edition of The Tayloria.

* * * * *

Testimony for PEPPER ARDEN, Esq.—In Answer to a Case for the Opinion of GEORGE HARDINGE, Esq. Attorney General to her Majesty.

I have perused this Ode, and find it containeth eight hundred and forty-seven WORDS—two thousand one hundred and four SYLLABLES—four thousand three hundred and forty-four LETTERS[1].—It is, therefore, my opinion, that said Ode is a good and complete title to all those fees, honours, perquisites, emoluments, and gratuities, usually annexed, adjunct to, and dependant on, the office of Poet Laureat, late in the occupation of William Whitehead, Esq. defunct.

G. HARDINGE.

[1] See the learned Gentleman’s arithmetical Speech on the Westminster Scrutiny.

* * * * *

Testimony in Favour of Sir RICHARD HILL, Bart.

LORD GEORGE GORDON.

To the EDITOR of the PUBLIC ADVERTISER.

MR. PRINTER, I call upon all the Privy Council, Charles Jenkinson, Mr. Bond, and the Lord Mayor of London, to protect my person from the Popish Spies set over me by the Cabinet of William Pitt.—On Thursday ult. having read the Ode of my friend, Sir Richard, in a print amicable to my Protestant Brethren, and approving it, I accordingly visited that pious Baronet, who, if called on, will verify the same.—I then told Sir Richard what I now repeat, that George the Third ought to send away all Papist Ambassadors.——I joined Sir Richard, Lady Hill, and her cousin, in an excellent hymn, turned from the 1st of Matthew, by Sir Richard.—I hereby recommend it to the eighty Societies of Protestants in Glasgow, knowing it to be sound orthodox truth; for that purpose, Mr. Woodfall, I now entrust it to your special care, conjuring you to print it, as you hope to be saved.

Salmon begat Booz—
Booz begat Obed—
Obed begat Jesse, so as
Jesse begat David.

AMEN.

And I am, Sir,
Your humble Servant,
GEO. GORDON.

* * * * *

Testimony in Favour of MAJOR JOHN SCOTT’s Poetical Talents.

WARREN HASTINGS, Esq.

In an Extract from a private Letter to a Great Personage.

“I trust, therefore, that the rough diamonds will meet with your favourable construction. They will be delivered by my excellent friend, Major John Scott, who, in obedience to my orders, has taken a seat in Parliament, and published sundry tracts on my integrity. I can venture to recommend him as an impenetrable arguer, no man’s propositions flowing in a more deleterious stream; no man’s expressions so little hanging on the thread of opinion.—He has it in command to compose the best and most magnificent Ode on your Majesty’s birthday.

“What can I say more?”