is a plain honest creature, with quiet knowledge, but I dare say all the
English have told you, he has a very particular understanding: I really
don't believe they meant to impose on you, for they thought so. As to
Bondelmonti, he is much less; he is a low mimic; the brightest cast of
his parts attains to the composition of a sonnet: he talks irreligion
with English boys, sentiment with my sister [Lady Walpole], and bad
French with any one that will hear him. I will transcribe you a little
song that he made t'other day; 'tis pretty enough; Gray turned it into
Latin, and I into English; you will honour him highly by putting it into
French, and Ashton into Greek. Here 'tis.

Spesso Amor sotto la forma
D'amistà ride, e s'asconde;
Poi si mischia, e si confonde
Con lo sdegno e col rancor.

In pietade ei si trasforma,
Par trastullo e par dispetto,
Ma nel suo diverso aspetto,
Sempre egli è l'istesso Amor.

Risit amicitiae interdùm velatus amictu,
Et benè compositâ veste fefeliit Amor:
Mox irae assumpsit cultus faciemque minantem,
Inque odium versus, versus et in lacrymas:
Sudentem fuge, nec lacrymanti aut crede furenti;
Idem est dissimili semper in ore Deus.

Love often in the comely mien
Of friendship fancies to be seen;