From impious arms at length, O Louis ceafe Left from thy hand thou see thy fceptre torn, 485 AN EPISTLE TO FLAVIA. N THE SIGHT OF TWO PINDARIC ODES ON. THE SPLEEN AND VANITY. * WRITTEN BY A LADY HER FRIEND.. LAVIA, to you with fafety I commend FL This verfe, the fecret failing of your To your good-nature I fecurely trust, Who know, that to conceal, is to be just. friend. The Mufe, like wretched maids by love undone, Fears the cenforious world, and lofs of fame. * Anne Countess of Winchelfea. Sure, Sure, in the better ages of old time, Nor poetry nor love was thought a crime; From heaven they both the gods best gifts were sent, Divinely perfect both, and innocent. Then were bad poets and loofe loves not known; And spent in pure untainted joys the day : Now could the cenfor or the critic fear. Pleas'd to be pleas'd, they took what heaven bestow'da At length, like Indians fond of fancy'd toys, While Bays grown old, and harden'd in offence, } The The Stage (whofe art was once the mind to move Ye wretched bards! from whom thefe ills have sprung, To heaven for all the guilty tribe atone; To the false gods of wit has never bow'd, The empire, which the faves, fhall own her sway, } Say, from what sacred fountain, nymph divine! The treasures flow, which in thy verfe do fhine ? With what strange inspiration art thou blest, What more than Delphic ardour warms thy breaft? Our fordid earth ne'er bred fo bright a flame, But from the skies, thy kindred skies, it came. To numbers great like thine, th' angelic quire In joyous concert tune the golden lyre; Viewing, with pitying eyes, our cares with thee, They wifely own, that "All is Vanity;" Ev'n all the joys which mortal minds can know, And find Ardelia's verse the least vain thing below. If Pindar's name to those blefs'd manfions reach, And mortal Muses may immortal teach, In verfe like his, the heavenly nation raise For once, to imitate an earthly ftrain, So Clelia leap'd into the rapid flood, } See with what pomp the antic mafque comes in ! The various forms of the fantastic spleen. Vain empty laughter, howling grief and tears, Falfe joy, bred by false hope, and falser fears ; Each vice, each paffion which pale nature wears,. In this odd monftrous medley mix'd appears. Like Bays 's dance, confufedly round they run, Statefman, Coquet, gay Fop, and penfive Nun, Spectres and Heroes, Hufbands and their Wives, With Monkish Drones that dream away their lives. Long have I labour'd with the dire disease, Nor found, but from Ardelia's numbers, ease: The dancing verfe runs through my fluggish veins, Where dull and cold the frozen blood remains. Pale Pale cares and anxious thoughts give way in hafte, And left the monarch's breast, to seek some saferfhade. 5 0 N G. WHILE Sappho with harmonious airs Her dear Philenis charms, With equal joy the nymph appears Diffolving in his arms. Thus to themselves alone they are All grant, and all receive. Like the Twin-ftars, fo fam'd for friends, With happier fate, and kinder care, The joys of either sex in love, In each of them we read; EPIGRAM |