class="fnanchor pginternal" id="FNanchor_1" tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">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.
Bœotian Nymphs, my favorite verse inspire;
As erst ye Nyky taught to strike the lyre.
For he like Phœbus' 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, Mœri, pedes; an quò via ducit in urbem?
Nymphæ, noster amor, Libethrides, nunc mihi carmen,
Quale meo Codro, concedite; proxima Phœbi
Versibus ille facit.——
Quid facerem?   NOTES.

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For me, alas! who well compos'd the song When lovely Peggy2 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; Bœotian 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 Mœrim 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.

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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.

Quem fugis? Ah demens!—— Et fortunatam, si nunquam armenta fuissent, Pasiphaën nivei solatur amore juvenci. Oh, virgo infelix, quæ te dementia cepit? Prœtides implêrunt falsis mugitibus agros: At non tum turpes pecudum tamen ulla secuta est Concubitus: quamvis collo timuisset aratrum, Et sæpe in levi quæsisset cornua fronte. Ah, virgo infelix, tu nunc in montibus erras!

NOTES.

Time, however, effects strange things, as the poet says, and many have been the passions which have since agitated, and have been also quelled in the bosom of Roscius.

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Yet to Euryalus as Nisus true, So shall thy Roscius, Nyky, prove to you; Whether by impulse mov'd, itself divine, Or so I'm bound to call it, as it's mine, A mighty feat presents itself to view, Which for our mutual gain I yet will do. Mean-time do thou beware, while I bemoan, How far thou trustest seas or lands unknown. To Tyber's stream, or to the banks of Po, Safe in thy love, safe in thy virtue, go; Yet even there with caution be thou kind, And look out sharp and frequently behind. But ah, beware, nor trust, tho' native Mud,4 The banks of Liffy, or of Shannon's flood; Or there, if driv'n by fate, be hush'd thy strain? Nor of thy wayward lot, nor mine complain.

IMITATIONS.

Nisus ait, "Diine hunc ardorem mentibus addunt Euryale? An sua cuique deus sit dira Cupido? Aut pugnam, aut aliquid jamdudum invadere magnum Mens agitat mihi—— Hàc iter est; tu ne qua manus se attollere nobis A tergo possit, custodi et consule longè."

NOTES.