compass of the English language." It was composed, it would appear, at Venice before the final meeting of the poets at Bologna, but was never published by its author. Its appearance was posthumous; and as it is not included in the "Poetical Works," and is but little known, it must find a place here:—
"QUESTION.
"Nose and chin would shame a knocker,
Wrinkles that would puzzle Cocker;
Mouth which marks the envious scorner,
With a scorpion in each corner,
Turning its quick tail to sting you
In the place that most may wring you;
Eyes of lead-like hue and gummy,
Carcass pick'd out from some mummy;
Bowels (but they were forgotten
Save the hver, and that's rotten).
Skin all sallow, flesh all sodden,—
Form the Devil would fright God in.
Is't a corpse stuck up for show,
Galvanized at times to go?
With the Scripture in connexion.
New proof of the resurrection.
Vampire, ghost, or ghoul, what is it?
I would walk ten miles to miss it.
"ANSWER.
'Many passengers arrest one.
To demand the same free question.
Shorter's my reply and franker —
That's the Bard, the Beau, the Banker.
Yet if you could bring about,
Just to turn him inside out,
Satan's self would seem less sooty.
And his present aspect—Beauty.
Mark that (as he masks the bilious
Air, so softly supercilious)
Chasten'd bow, and mock humility.
Almost sicken'd to servility;
Hear his tone (which is to talking
That which creeping is to walking;
Now on all-fours, now on tip-toe);
Hear the tales he lends his lip to:—
Little hints of heavy scandals;
Every friend in turn he handles;
All which women, or which men do
Glides forth in an innuendo.
Clothed in odds and ends of humour—
Herald of each paltry rumour.
From divorces down to dresses,
Women's frailty, men's excesses,
All which life presents of evil
Make for him a constant revel.
You're his foe, for that he fears you,
And in absence blasts and sears you.
You're his friend, for that he hates you;
First caresses, and then baits you:
Darting on the opportunity
When to do it with impunity.
You are neither,— then he'll flatter
