Side by side the horses fly, Frame we now the old reply Of the Lovers' Litany: “Love like ours can never die!” Eyes of blue--the Simla Hills Silvered with the moonlight hoar; Pleading of the waltz that thrills, Dies and echoes round Benmore. “Mabel,” “Officers,” “Goodbye,” Glamour, wine, and witchery-- On my soul's sincerity, “Love like ours can never die!” Maidens of your charity, Pity my most luckless state. Four times Cupid's debtor I-- Bankrupt in quadruplicate. Yet, despite this evil case, And a maiden showed me grace, Four-and-forty times would I Sing the Lovers' Litany: “Love like ours can never die!” A BALLAD OF BURIAL (“Saint @Proxed's ever was the Church for peace”) If down here I chance to die, Solemnly I beg you take All that is left of “I” To the Hills for old sake's sake, Pack me very thoroughly In the ice that used to slake Pegs I drank when I was dry-- This observe for old sake's sake. To the railway station hie, There a single ticket take For Umballa--goods-train--I Shall not mind delay or shake. I shall rest contentedly Spite of clamor coolies make; Thus in state and dignity Send me up for old sake's sake. Next the sleepy Babu wake, Book a Kalka van “for four.” Few, I think, will care to make Journeys with me any more As they used to do of yore. I shall need a “special” break-- Thing I never took before-- Get me one for old sake's sake. After that--arrangements make. No hotel will take me in, And a bullock's back would break 'Neath the teak and leaden skin Tonga ropes are frail and thin, Or, did I a back-seat take, In a tonga I might spin,-- Do your best for old sake's sake. After that--your work is done. Recollect a Padre must Mourn the dear departed one-- Throw the ashes and the dust. Don't go down at once. I trust You will find excuse to “snake Three days' casual on the bust.” Get your fun for old sake's sake. I could never stand the Plains. Think of blazing June and May Think of those September rains Yearly till the Judgment Day! I should never rest in peace, I should sweat and lie awake. Rail me then, on my decease, To the Hills for old sake's sake. DIVIDED DESTINIES It was an artless Bandar, and he danced upon a pine, And much I wondered how he lived, and where the beast might dine, And many, many other things, till, o'er my morning smoke, I slept the sleep of idleness and dreamt that Bandar spoke. He said: “O man of many clothes! Sad crawler on the Hills! Observe, I know not Ranken's shop, nor Ranken's monthly bills; I take no heed to trousers or the coats that you call dress; Nor am I plagued with little cards for little drinks at Mess.