Walter Scott

“ Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword—
For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word—
'O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war?—
Or to dance at our bridal? young Lord Lochinvar!'
I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied:
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide!
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine!
There be maidens in Scotland, more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar!
The bride kiss'd the goblet; the knight took it up. ”