334
LAMENTINGS.
And Wallack,69 too, no longer dips
In bathos, for the tragic prize;
And Bartley,69 a melalogue that slips
Melodious from her honeyed lips,
No more in murmured music dies.
Yet, though fell Fortune has bereft
My heart of all, one mode is left
In slumber’s vision to restore ’em;
Weekly I’ll buy with pious pence,
A dose of opiate eloquence,
And sleep in quiet at the Forum.
D.
