TWO HUNTERS.[ANECDOTE OF VICTOR EMMANUEL, KING OF ITALY.]
They met in the heat of a Southern sun.
And how did they look? Oh, I fancy one
Was a picturesque peasant, such as you may
See in a lover's part, at the play.
And how did they look? Oh, I fancy one
Was a picturesque peasant, such as you may
See in a lover's part, at the play.
This hunter was nothing at all, you see,
And the other was—everything! But he
Was none too handsome, let us suppose,
Although his face out-reddened the rose.
And the other was—everything! But he
Was none too handsome, let us suppose,
Although his face out-reddened the rose.
These two Italians met, as I said,
In a lonesome place where a hare lay dead.
"It is mine—I shot it," one stormily cried;
"It is mine—I shot it," the other replied.
In a lonesome place where a hare lay dead.
"It is mine—I shot it," one stormily cried;
"It is mine—I shot it," the other replied.
So the beautiful youth went home that night
With his black eyes blacker yet from the fight.
"Now," the genial gentleman said, "it is mine—
And" (this to himself) "by the right divine."
With his black eyes blacker yet from the fight.
"Now," the genial gentleman said, "it is mine—
And" (this to himself) "by the right divine."
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