At the garden-gate he met her—upon his knee he set her—
And, vanquished by the daughter’s love, forgot the father’s wrath:
Till when on the day in question, with a view to aid digestion,
Some retainers of Sir Walter, who with their lord had dined,
Bethought of promenading, what by Gamp is called the “garding,”
And, during their researches, what think ye they should find?
But a gallant captain kneeling, and apparently appealing,
To a dame who to all seeming, was encouraging his suit;
All dishevelled were her tresses by the warmth of his caresses,
And her eye with love was liquid, although her voice was mute!