Had slightly press'd its signet sage,

Yet had not quench'd the open truth

And fiery vehemence of youth:

Forward and frolic glee was there,

The will to do, the soul to dare.

Lady of the Lake. Canto i. Stanza 21.

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,

Morn of toil nor night of waking.

Lady of the Lake. Canto i. Stanza 31.

Hail to the chief who in triumph advances!