'TIS SIXTY YEARS SINCE 



Thus the silence he broke : "Until hunting were done 

 I had hop'd, dearest maid, this avowal to shun, 

 Till the season were over to practise restraint, 

 Nor to vex you till then with a lover's complaint, 



" But the moment is come, and the moment I seize. 

 Those glances of anger let pity appease, 

 Leave me — leave me no longer in anguish and doubt. 

 While I live you shall never again be thrown out." 



"Is it thus," she exclaimed, "that a bride can be won ? 

 Wretched man that you are, you have lost me my run ! 

 Farewell ! nor the hand of a huntress pursue, 

 When the whip which it grasps is deservedly due." 



Though that lover rode home the most wretched of 



men. 

 Though that maid vow'd a vow they should ne'er 



meet again. 

 Love laughs at the quarrels of lovers they say, 

 When the season was o'er, they were married in May. 



'Z/j Sixty Years Since 



" \/OUR heart is fresh as ever, Ned, 

 1 Although your head be white ; 

 We must crack, another bottle, Ned, 

 Before we say good-night ; 

 Our legs across the saddle 

 Though we fling them never more. 

 We may rest them on the fender 

 While we talk our gallops o'er." 



^7S 



