Her hills, her cots, her halls, her groves of pine,
Dark though they be: yon glen, yon broomy brae,
Yon wild fox cleugh, yon eagle cliffs outline
An hour like this—this white right-hand of thine,
And of thy dark eyes such a gracious glance,
As I got now, for all beyond the line,
And all the glory gained by sword or lance,
In gallant England, Spain, or olive vales of France."
Footnote 1: [(return)]
It is said, that a tiger lying in wait for a string of passengers usually selects the last of the party.