By hook misfortune has us, or by crook,
And griefs and gouts come thick'ning with one's years.
In fine, we've debts :-and when we've debts, no ray
Of hope remains to warm us to repose.
Thus has my own life pass'd from day to day;
And now, by way of climax, though not close,
The fatal debit of the Giuli Tre
Fills up the solemn measure of my woes.
Often and often have I understood
From Galen's readers and Hippocrates's,
That there are certain seasons in diseases
In which the patient oughtn't to lose blood.
Whether the reason that they give be good,
Or doctors square their practice to the thesis,
I know not; nor is this the best of places
For arguing that matter, as I could.
All that I know is this,-that Giuli Tre
Has no such scruple or regard with me,
Nor holds the rule himself: for every day
He does his best, and that most horribly,
To make me lose my cash; which, I must say,
Has with one's blood some strange affinity.
Never did beetle hum so teasingly
About one's ears, in walking, when it's hot;
Never did fly return so to one spot,
As comes my teasing Creditor on me.
Let it but rain, for instance, and you'll see
The flies and beetles vanish like a shot;
But never comes the time,-the day is not,-
In which this vermin here will let me be.
Perhaps as bodies tend invariably
Jezer row bl Tow'rds other bodies by some force divine,ID) Attraction, gravity, or centripathy,
(God knows; I'm little vers'd in your right line,) So by some natural horrid property
This pretty satellite tends tow'rds me and mine.
I've said forever, and again I say,
And it's a truth as plain as truth can be,
That from a certain period to this day,
Pence are a family quite extinct with me.
And yet you still pursue me, and waylay,
With your insufferable importunity,
And for those d-d infernal Giuli-Tre
Haunt me without remorse or decency.
Perhaps you think that you'll torment me so
You'll make me hang myself? You wish to say
You saw me sus. per coll.-No, Giuli, no.
The fact is, I'll determine not to pay;
And drive you, Giuli, to a state so low,
That you shall hang yourself, and I be gay.
Oh with what folly did they toil in vain,
Who thought old Arnold, Sully, or Gabor wise,
And night and day labour'd with earnest eyes*
To turn their metals into Golden grain !
How did their pots and they perspire again
Over their sulphurs, salts, and mercuries,
And never, after all, could see their prize,
Or do what Nature does, and with no pain:
And yet, ah me! why, why, dear Nature say,
This lovely art—why must it be despis'd?
Why mayn't we follow this thy noblest way?
I'd work myself; and having realiz'd,
Great Heavens! a capital of Giuli Tre,
Break up my tools, content and aggrandiz’d.
My Creditor seems often in a way
Extremely pleasant with me, and polite;
Just like a friend.-You'd fancy, at first sight,
He thought no longer of the Giuli Tre.
All that he wants to know is, what they say
Of Frederick now; whether his guess was right
About the sailing of the French that night;
Or, What's the news of Hanover and D'Estreè's.
But start from whence he may, he comes as truly, By little and little, to his ancient pass,
And says, "Well-when am I to have the Giuli?" 'Tis the cat's way. She takes her mouse, alas! And having purr'd, and eyed, and tapped him duly, Gives him at length the fatal coup de grace.
My Creditor has no such arms, as he
Whom Homer trumpets, or whom Virgil sings,
Arms which dismiss'd so many souls in strings,
From warlike Ilium and from Italy;
Nor has he those of later memory,
With which Orlando did such loads of things;
But with hard hints, and horrid botherings,
And such rough ways,—with these he warreth me.
And suddenly he launcheth at me, lo!
His terrible demand the Giuli Tre;
I draw me back, and thrust him with a No!
Then glows the fierce resentment of the fray,
Till turning round, I scamper from the foe;
The only way, I find, to gain the day.
THOU lofty mirror, Truth, let me be shown
Such as I am, in body and in mind ;-
Hair plainly red, retreating now behind;
Of stature tall, head bent and looking prone;
A meagre body on two stilts of bone;
Fair skin, blue eyes, good air, nose well defined,
Mouth handsome, teeth such as are rare to find,
And paler in the face than king on throne.
Now harsh and bitter, pleasant now and mild;
A quickly rous'd yet no malignant foe;
My heart, and mind, and self, never in tune;
Sad for the most part, then in such a flow
Of spirits, I seem now hero, now buffoon ;—
Man, art thou great or vile ?-Die, and thou'lt
know..
Dialogue between the Poet and his Florentine Laundress, Nera Colomboli.
A. Why, Mistress Nera, what the devil's here? To bring my stockings home at last undone ? Undone! Ah! God knows if I've sewn and sewn ;
But they so spider-web, it's a despair.
A. So spider-web, school mistress! Why, that's
N. How? Any thing that we put off and on, And wear and wear, till all the stuff is gone, Doesn't it spider-web? I think it's clear.
Spider-web? I don't take it; what d'ye mean?
Lord bless me, Sir, break me a spider's web,
And see if I can sew it up again.
Ah! It is I that am the unlick'd cub.
I grow gray writing Tuscan, but in vain :
A sorry graft, fit only for the grub.,
Dialogue between a Chair in Italy and a Gentleman from England.
WHAT is the reason, Sir, that every day
You load me thus for nothing, hours and hours? Is this the manner, pray,
Of making love in that cold clime of yours? You may be heavy for a century,
And get no further with the lovely she.
And hast thou too conspired against me, chair?
I love, 'tis true-too true-and dare not say it:
But surely my whole air,
My looks, my very silence, all display it :
Every one, doubtless, must perceive the fire,
That gnaws and eats me up with fierce desire.
For God's sake, speak then, or you'll never do:
What you do now by the fair lady's side,
|