A LETTER to CORINNA from a CAPTAIN in Country Quarters.
Y earliest flame, to whom I owe
M All that a captain needs to know;
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;
Think, charmer, how I live forlorn
At quarters, from Corinna torn.
Nor more diftress the cornet feels
From gruel, and Ward's popifh pills.
What fhall 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 wou'd be wrong:
Sober advice, and Curl's Dutch whore
I've read, 'till I can read no more.
At noon I rise, and strait alarm
A fempftrefs' 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 fearch,
Oft at affemblies, oft at church,
And plight my faith and gold to-boot ;
Yet demme if a foul will do't
In short our credit's funk so low,
Since troops were kept o'foot for fhew,
She that for foldiers once run mad,
Is turn'd republican, egad!
And when I boast my feats, the shrew
Afks who was flain the laft review.
Know then, that I and captain Trueman
Resolve to keep a miss-in common:
Not her, among the batter'd laffes,
Such as our friend Toupét careffes,
But her, a nymph of polish'd sense,
Which pedants call impertinence:
Train'd up to laugh, and drink, and fwear,
And railly with the prettieft air-
Amidft our frolicks and caroufes
How fhall 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, i
Calls in his way to Farinelli;
Add that my fattin gown and watch
Some unfledg'd booby 'fquire may catch,
Who, charm'd with his delicious quarry,
May first debauch me, and then marry ;
Never was feafon more befitting
And fhall I leave dear Charing-cross,
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 attoning alms disburse,
A tefter
templars, fomething worfe:
My lord may take you to his bed,
But then he fends you back unpaid;
And all you gain from generous cully,
Muft go to keep fome Irish bully.
Pinchbeck demands the tweezer case,
And Monmouth-ftreet the gown and stays;;
More mischiefs yet come crowding on,
Bridewell,-Weft Indies and Sir John-
Then oh! to lewdness bid adieu,
And chaftly live, confin'd to two.
F Virtue prompt thy willing mind
To actions gen'rous, good and kind
Fortune beyond thy hopes fhall bless
Thy toils, and crown them with fuccefs:
But he whase bounties only rise
From profpects of a future prize,
With forrow shall compute his gains,
And reap repentance for his pains.
Precepts are often found to fail,
So take instruction from my tale.
In ancient days there liv'd a priest,
Inshrin'd within whose pious breaft
Fair Virtue fhone; his open look
Gave fanction to each word he spoke.
Fix'd to no home, in mean array,
From place to place he took his way,
Inftructing as he went along,
And dealing bleffings to the throng.
The truth he labour'd to express, !
In language plain as was his dress ;
Yet all with fecret rapture hung
On every accent of his tongue;
A filent eloquence there ran
Through all the actions of the man;
They mark'd his foul's unblemish'd frame,
His precept and his life the fame.
It chanc'd, as mufing once he stray'd,
Around him night's defcending fhade
Unheeded ftole; through paths unknown
With darkling steps he wander'd on,
And wifh'd to fhroud his weary head
Beneath fome hospitable shed.
When through the gloom a fudden ray
Sprung forth, and fhot across the way.
Led by the light, a cott he found:
A pious dame the manfion own'd,
Whofe open heart, tho' fmall her store,
Ne'er turn'd the ftranger from her door,
Think at the fight of fuch a guest,
What transport rofe within her breast:
With joy the friendly board the spread,
And plac'd him in her warmest bed.
Deep funk in fleep the trav❜ler lay,
Tir'd with the labours of the day.
'Tis beft, as ableft critics deem,
To fuit your language to your theme;
Obfequious to their rules, the Mufe
In humbler ftrain her tale pursues.
The matron, while her thankful guest
Had fhar'd with her the flender feast,
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