Printed for E. CURLL at the Dial and Ele
against St. Dunstan's Church in Fleetftreet. 1715.

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An EPISTLE to FLAVIA.

On the Sight of two Pindarick Odes on the Spleen and Vanity,

F

Written by a Lady her Friend.

LAVIA, to you with Safety I commend

This Verfe, the fecret Failing of your Friend.

To your good Nature I fecurely trust,

Who know, that to conceal, is to be juft.

The Mufe, like wretched Maids by Love undone,

(run. From Friends, Acquaintance, and the Light would Conscious of Folly, fears attending Shame,

Fears the cenforious World, and Lofs of Fame.
Some Confidant by Chance fhe finds, (tho' few
Pity the Fools, whom Love or Verfe undo):
Whofe fond Compaffion fooths her in the Sin,
And fets her on to venture once again.

Sure, in the better Ages of old Time,

Nor Poetry nor Love was thought a Crime;

From Heav'n they both the Gods best Gifts were fent,
Divinely perfect both, and Innocent.

Then were bad Poets and loofe Loves not known;
None felt a Warmth which they might blush toown.
Beneath cook Shades our happy Fathers lay,
And spent in pure untainted Joys the Day:
Artless their Loves, artless their Numbers were,

While Nature fimply did in both appear,

Nor could the Cenfor or the Critick fear.

(ftow'd,

Pleas'd to be pleas'd, they took what Heav'n be

Nor were too curious of the given Good.
At length, like Indians fond of fancy'd Toys,
We loft being happy, to be thought more wife.
In one curs'd Age, to punish Verse and Sin,
Criticks and Hang-men, both at once, came in.

Wit and the Laws had both the fame ill Fate,
And partial Tyrants fway'd in either State.

Ill-natur❜d Cenfure would be sure to damn
An Alien-wit of independent Fame,
While Bays grown old, and harden'd in Offence,
Was fuffer'd to write on in spite of Sense;
Back'd by his Friends, th'Invader brought along
A Crew of foreign Words into our Tongue,
To ruin and enflave the free-born English Song;
Still the prevailing Faction propt his Throne,
And to four Volumes let his Plays run on ;
Then a lewd Tide of Verfe, with vicious Rage,
Broke in upon the Morals of the Age.

The Stage (whofe Art was once the Mind to move
To noble Daring, and to vertuous Love)

Precept with Pleafure mix'd, no more profest,
But dealt in double Meaning bawdy Jeft:

The