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 purred, and eyed, and tapp'd him duly,
Gives him at length the fatal coup de grace.

SONNET 122.

Oh quanto scioccamente vaneggiò,

Chi Arnaldo, e Lullo, ed il Gebèr seguì,

E lavorò nascosto e notte e di,

Ed i metalli trasformar pensò:

E intorno ad un crocciuol folle sudò,
In cui mercuri, e solfi, e sali unì,
Ne finalmente mai gli riuscì

Coll'arte oprar ciò che natura oprò.

Ma oh! perchè si bell'arte in noi non e!
Perchè all'uom d'imitar vietato fu

I bei lavori che natura fe!

Studiar vorrei la chimica virtù,

E fatto il capital de' Giuli Tre,
Rompere il vaso, e non pensarvi piu.

Oh, with what folly did they toil in vain,
Who thought old Arnald, Lully, or Geber wise,
And night and day labour'd with anxious 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!

Yet oh, good heavens! 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.

Son. 124. He supposes that there was no such Creditor as his in the time of David, because in the imprecations that are accumulated in the hundred and eighteenth psalm, there is no mention of such a person.

Son. 127.-His Creditor, he tells us, disputed with him one day, for argument's sake, on the immortality of the soul; and that the great difficulty he started was, how anything that had a beginning could be without an end. Upon which the poet asks him, whether he did not begin one day asking him for the Giuli Tre, and whether he has left off ever since.

Son. 128. He says that as Languedoc is still so called from the use of the affirmative particle oc in that quarter, as writers in other parts of France used to be called writers of oui, and as Italy is denominated the lovely land of si, so his own language, from his constant habit of using the negative particle to the Creditor of the Giuli Tre, ought to be called the language of no.

Son. 134.-He informs us, that his Creditor has lately taken to learning French; and conjectures, that finding he has hitherto asked for the Giuli Tre to no purpose in his own language, he wishes to try the efficacy of the French way of dunning.

SONNET 140.

Armato tutto il Creditor non già

Di quell'armi che Achille o Enea vestì,
Onde di tanta poi mortalità

La Frigia l'un, l'altro l'Italia empì;
Ne di quelle onde poscia in altra età
D'estinti corpi Orlando il suol coprì:
Ma di durezza e d'importunità
E d'aspri modi armato ei m'assalì.

Ed improvviso in contro mi lanciò
La richiesta mortal di Giuli Tre;
Io mi schermisco, indi gli scaglio un Nò:
Seguia la pugna ed infieria; ma il piè
Da lui volgendo alfin ratto men vò,
E vincitor la fuga sol mi fe'.

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 heaps of things;
But with hard hints, and constant 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.

Son. 142.-The first time the seaman hears the horrible crashing of the tempest, and sees the fierce and cruel rising of the sea, he turns pale, and loses both his courage and his voice; but if he lives long enough to grow grey in his employment, he sits

gaily at the stern, and sings to the accompaniment of the winds. So it is with the poet. His Creditor's perpetual song of the Giuli Tre frightened him at first; but now that his ears have grown used to it, he turns it into a musical accompaniment like the billows, and goes singing to the sound.

Son. 148.-A friend takes him to see the antiquities in the Capitol, but he is put to flight by the sight of a statue resembling his Creditor.

Son. 185.-He marks out to a friend the fatal place where his Creditor lent him the Giuli Tre, showing how he drew out and opened his purse, and how he counted out to him the Giuli with a coy and shrinking hand. He further shows, how it was not a pace distant from this spot that the Creditor began to ask him for the Giuli: and finishes with proposing to purify the place with lustral water, and exorcise its evil genius.

Son. 189. He laments that happy age of the world, in which there was a community of goods; and says that the avidity of individuals and the invention of meum and tuum have brought an immense number of evils among mankind, his part of which he suffers by reason of the Giuli Tre.

Son. 200.-Apollo makes his appearance, and rebukes the poet for wasting his time, advising him to sing of things that are worthy of immortality. Upon which the poet stops short in a song he was chanting upon his usual subject, and bids goodnight for ever to his Creditor and the Giuli Tre.

Not a word of payment.

A FEW REMARKS ON THE RARE VICE CALLED LYING;

OR,

AN APPEAL TO THE MODESTY OF ANTI-BALLOTMEN.

Impossibility of finding a liar in England-Lying, nevertheless, allowed and organized as a mutual accommodation, except in the case of voters at elections.-Reason of this, a wish to have all the lies on one side.-The right of lying arrogated by the rich as a privilege.-Vindication, nevertheless, of the rich as human beings.-Social root of apparently unsocial feelings.Conventional liars not liars out of the pale of conventionality. -Falsehood sometimes told for the sake of truth and good.— Final appeal to the consciences of anti-ballotmen.

THE great argument against the Ballot is, that it teaches people duplicity,—that the elector will promise his vote to one man, and give it to another. In short, that he will lie. Lying is a horrid vice,— un-English. It must not be suffered to pollute our shores. People lie in France. They lie in Italy. They lie in Spain and Portugal.

They lie in Africa,

in Asia, and America. But in England, who ever

heard of such a thing?