Sir Walter Scott

In listening mood she seemed to stand, The guardian Naiad of the strand.

In the lost battle, Borne down by the flying, Where mingles war's rattle With groans of the dying.

Affection can withstand very severe storms of vigor, but not a long polar frost of indifference.

The happy combination of fortuitous circumstances.

O fading honours of the dead! O high ambition, lowly laid!

Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife! To all the sensual world proclaim, One crowded hour of glorious life Is worth an age without a name.

O woman! in our hours of ease Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made; When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou!

For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of Lochinvar.

When Israel, of the Lord belov'd, Out of the land of bondage came, Her fathers' God before her mov'd, An awful guide in smoke and flame.

What can they see in the longest kingly line in Europe, save that it runs back to a successful soldier?