the rule laid down by Horace in his Art of Poetry, not to bring
to light any work until ten years after it has been composed. Now, I
have a work on which I was engaged for twenty years, and which has lain
by me for twelve. The subject is sublime, the invention perfectly novel,
the episodes singularly happy, the versification noble, and the
arrangement admirable, for the beginning is in perfect correspondence
with the middle and the end. Altogether it is a lofty, sonorous, heroic
poem, delectable and full of matter; and yet I cannot find a prince to
whom I may dedicate it--a prince, I say, who is intelligent, liberal,
and magnanimous. Wretched and depraved age this of ours!"

"What is the subject of the work?" inquired the alchemist.

"It treats," said the poet, "of that part of the history of king Arthur
of England which archbishop Turpin left unwritten, together with the
history of the quest of the Sangreal, the whole in heroic measure,--part
rhymes, part blank-verse; and in dactyles moreover, that is to say, in
dactylic noun substantives, without any admission of verbs."

"For my part, I am not much of a judge in matters of poetry," returned
the alchemist, "and therefore I cannot precisely estimate the misfortune
you complain of; but in any case it cannot equal my own in wanting
means, or a prince to back me and supply me with the requisites, for
prosecuting the science of alchemy; but for which want alone I should
now be rolling in gold, and richer than ever was Midas, Crassus, or
Croesus."

"Have you ever succeeded, Senor Alchemist," said the mathematician, "in
extracting gold from the other metals?"

"I have not yet extracted it," the alchemist replied, "but I know for
certain that the thing is to be done, and that in less than two months
more I could complete the discovery of the philosopher's stone, by means
of which gold can be made even out of pebbles."

"Your worships," rejoined the mathematician, "have both of you made a
great deal of your misfortunes; but after all, one of you has a book to
dedicate, and the other is on the point of discovering the
philosopher's stone, by means of which he will be as rich as all those
who have followed that course. But what will you say of my misfortune,
which is great beyond compare? For two and twenty years I have been in
pursuit of the fixed point; here I miss it, there I get sight of it
again, and just when it seems that I am down upon it so that it can by
no means