Relative to the Personal Satisfaction, pretended to have been required of the Author of the above Eclogue, by the lamentable ROSCIUS. LOVE in the SUDS; A TOWN ECLOGUE. Whither away, now, GEORGE[1], into the city, And to the village, must thou bear my ditty. Seek NYKY out, while I in verse complain, And court the Muse to call him back again. Boeotian Nymphs, my favorite verse inspire; As erst ye NYKY taught to strike the lyre. For he like PHOEBUS' self can touch the string, And opera-songs compose--like any thing! What shall I do, now NYKY's fled away? For who like him can either sing or say? IMITATIONS. Quo te, Moeri, pedes; an quò via ducit in urbem? Nymphæ, noster amor, Libethrides, nunc mihi carmen, Quale meo Codro, concedite; proxima Phoebi Versibus ille facit.---- Quid facerem? NOTES. [1] The brother and constant companion of ROSCIUS; the Mercury of our theatrical Jupiter, whom he dispatches with his divine commands to mortal poets and miserable actors. For me, alas! who well compos'd the song When lovely PEGGY[2] liv'd, and I was young; By age impair'd, my piping days are done, My memory fails, and ev'n my voice is gone. My feeble notes I yet must strive to raise; Boeotian Muses! aid my feeble lays: A little louder, and yet louder still, Aid me to raise my failing voice at will; Aid me as loud as Hercules did bawl, For Hylas lost, lost NYKY back to call; While London town, and all its suburbs round In echoes, NYKY, NYKY, back resound. IMITATIONS. ---- ---- Sæpe ego longos Cantando puerum memini me condere soles Nunc oblita mihi tot carmina: vox quoque Moerim Jam fugit ipsa---- Omnia fert ætas, animum quoque. ---- Musæ paulò majora canamus. ---- Hylan nautæ quo fonte relictum Clamassent; ut littus Hyla, Hyla, omne sonaret. NOTES. [2] PEGGY WOFFINGTON, on whom our ROSCIUS, then her inamorato, made a famous song, beginning with the following stanza: _Once more I'll tune the vocal shell, To hills and dales my passion tell, A flame which time can never quell, That burns for thee, my Peggy._ Whom fliest thou, frantic youth, and whence thy fear? Blest had there never been a grenadier! Unhappy NYKY, by what frenzy seiz'd, Couldst thou with such a monstrous thing be pleas'd? What, tho' thyself a loving horse-marine,[3] A common foot-soldier's a thing obscene. Not fabled Nymphs, by spleen turn'd into cows, Bellow'd to nasty bulls their amorous vows; Tho' turn'd their loving horns upon each other, Butting in play, as brother might with brother. Unhappy NYKY, whither dost thou stray, Lost to thy friends, o'er hills and far away? IMITATIONS.