The mournful love-story of Dr. John Elliot made a deep impression on the popular mind. It is found alluded to in ballads and chap-books, and more than one penny romance was framed upon it. Not improbably it suggested the composition of the following parody of Monk Lewis's "Alonzo the Brave and the Fair Imogene," which appeared at the close of the last century, during the first run of popularity which that familiar ballad obtained:-- "GILES BOLUS THE KNAVE AND BROWN SALLY GREEN. "A ROMANCE BY M. G. LEWIS. "A Doctor so grave and a virgin so bright, Hob-a-nobbed in some right marasquin; They swallowed the cordial with truest delight, Giles Bolus the knave was just five feet in height, And four feet the brown Sally Green. "'And as,' said Giles Bolus, 'to-morrow I go To physic a feverish land, At some sixpenny hop, or perhaps the mayor's show, You'll tumble in love with some smart city beau, And with him share your shop in the Strand.' "'Lord! how can you think so?' Brown Sally Green said, 'You must know mighty little of me; For if you be living, or if you be dead, I swear, 'pon my honour, that none in your stead, Shall husband of Sally Green be. "'And if e'er I by love or by wealth led aside Am false to Giles Bolus the knave; God grant that at dinner so amply suppli'd, Over-eating may give me a pain in the side, May your ghost then bring rhubarb to physic the bride, And send her well-dosed to the grave.' "To Jamaica the doctor now hastened for gold, Sally wept till she blew her nose sore; Yet scarce had a twelvemonth elaps'd, when behold! A brewer quite stylish his gig that way roll'd, And stopped it at Sally Green's door. "His barrels, his bungs, and his brass-headed cane, Soon made her untrue to his vows; The stream of small beer now bewildered her brain; He caught her while tipsy--denials were vain-- So he carried her home as his spouse. "And now the roast-beef had been blest by the priest, To cram now the guests had begun; Tooth and nail, like a wolf, fell the bride on the feast Nor yet had the clash of her knife and fork ceased, When a bell (t'was the dustman's) toll'd one. "Then first, with amazement, brown Sally Green found, That a stranger was stuck by her side. His cravat and his ruffles with snuff were embrown'd; He ate not--he drank not--but, turning him round, Sent some pudding away to be fried. "His wig was turned forwards, and wort was his height, His apron was dirty to view; The women (oh! wondrous) were hushed at the sight, The cats as they eyed him drew back (well they might), For his body was pea-green and blue.