Human ftate! Hail, blooming maid!
Nymph belov'd! without thy aid,
He, who, greeting thee, his lays
Now attunes to notes of praise,
Mute had been, opprefs'd with pain
Of fpafin rheumatic. Hail again,.
Priestefs of HYGEIA's fhrine !
Still difpenfe her gift divine,

Still her vot'ries lead to HEALTH;
Elfe, what profits Marlborough's wealth,
* Eliza's form, and Stanhope's1 wit,
And all the eloquence of Pitt?

A LETTER TO CORINNA FROM A CAPTAIN IN COUNTRY QUARTERS.

BY ISAAC HAWKINS BROWNE, ESQ.

Y earliest flame, to whom I owe

M'All that a captain needs to know;

a

Drefs, and quadrille, and air, and chat,
Lewd fongs, loud laughter, and all that;
Arts that have widows oft fubdued,

And never fail'd to win a prude;

a The writer of Mr. Browne's Life in the Biographia Britannica, vol. II. p. 652. obferved that the publication of this Poem hath been objected to, but without fufficient reafon." The irony is fo obvious, "that it cannot well be mistaken. The fact was, that a young officer, "a friend of Mr. Browne's, wanted to carry a mistress with him to his 66 country quarters; and he defired our author to write a copy of verses, "to perfuade fome lady of eafy virtue to comply with his requeft. Mr. "Browne wrote these verses, which were defigned as a strong ridicule ❝ and severe reproof of such kind of criminal connections; and they "produced an immediate effect; for the young Gentleman gave up all "thoughts of his intended companion. The whole must be confidered "as written in the character of a rakifh officer, during a time of pro"found peace. Bishop Hoadly faid, that the verfes would do more good "than twenty fermons; and the late Lord Lyttelton expreffed a high "commendation of their moral tendency."

Think, charmer, how I live forlorn
At quarters, from Corinna torn.
Not more distress the cornet feels
From gruel, and Ward's popish pills.
What shall I do now you're away,
To kill that only foe, the day?
The landed 'fquire, and dull freeholder
Are fure no comrades for a foldier
To drink with parfons all day long,
• Mifaubin tells me would be wrong:
a Sober advice, and Curll's Dutch whore
I've read, 'till I can read no more.
At noon I rife, and strait alarm
A fempstress' fhop, or country farm;
Repuls'd, my next pursuit is a'ter

;

The parfon's wife, or landlord's daughter :
At market oft for game I search,

Oft at affemblies, oft at church,

And plight my faith and gold to-boot:
Yet demme if a foul will do't-

In fhort our credit's funk fo low,

Since troops were kept o'foot for shew,

Joshua Ward, the Empirick..

c Dr. Mifaubin was a noted quack, who dyed in 1734,

d Sober Advice from Horace to the young gentlemen about town.

An Imitation of Horace by Mr. Pope, published in 1734

She that for foldiers once run mad,
Is turn'd republican, 'egad!

And when I boast my feats, the fhrew
Afks who was flain the last review.
Know then, that I and captain Trueinan
Refolve to keep a mifs-in common:
Not her, among the batter'd laffes,
Such as our friend Toupét careffes,
But her, a nymph of polish'd fenfe,
Which pedants call Impertinence;
Train'd up to laugh, and drink, and swear,
And railly with the prettiest air-
Amidst our frolics and carouses
How shall we pity wretched fpoufes!
But where can this dear foul be found,
In garret high, or under ground?
If fo divine a fair there be,
Charming Corinna, thou art fhe.
But oh! what motives can perfuade
Belles, to prefer a rural fhade,

In this gay month, when pleasures bloom,
The park, the play-the drawing-room-
Lo! birthnights upon birthnights tread,
Term is begun, the lawyer fee'd;
My friend the merchant, let me tell ye,
Calls in his way to Farinelli;

Add that my fattin gown and watch
Some unfledg'd booby 'fquire may catch,

Who

Who, charm'd with his delicious quarry,
May firft debauch me, and then marry;
Never was feafon more befitting
Since convocations laft were fitting.
And shall I leave dear Chairing-crofs,
And let two boys my charms ingrofs?
Leave play-houfe, temple, and the rummer?
A country friend might ferve in fummer!

The town's your choice-yet, charming fair,
Obferve what ills attend you there.
Captains, that once admir'd your beauty,
Are kept by quality on duty;

Cits, for atoning alms difburfe
A tefter-templars, fomething worse :
My lord may take you to his bed,
But then he fends you back unpaid;
And all you gain from generous cully,
Must go to keep fome Irifh bully.
Pinchbeck demands the tweezer case,
And Monmouth-freet the gowns and stays ;
More mischiefs yet come crowding on,
Bridewell,-Weft Indies-and Sir John -
Then oh! to lewdness bid adieu,

And chastely live, confin'd to two.

C

Sir John Gonfon, then a Middlefex juftice of peace, remarkable for his feverity against women of the town.

Hogarth.

See Nichols's Anecdotes of