We never care - assured again to meet:
In vain the writer for concealment tries,
We trace his purpose under all disguise;
Nay, though he tells us they are dead and gone,
Of whom we wot, they will appear anon;
Our favourites fight, are wounded, hopeless lie,
Survive they cannot - nay, they cannot die;
Now, as these tricks and stratagems are known,
’Tis best, at once, the simple truth to own.
This was the husband - in an humble shed