The summer dawn's reflected hue To purple changed Lock Katrine blue, Mildly and soft the western breeze Just kiss'd the lake, just stirr'd the trees, And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, Trembled but dimpled not for joy.

My hope, my heaven, my trust must be, My gentle guide, in following thee.

As long as the Fates permit, live cheerfully.

Methinks I will not die quite happy without having seen something of that Rome of which I have read so much.

Unless a tree has borne blossoms in spring, you will vainly look for fruit on it in autumn.

Dear to me is my bonnie white steed; Oft has he helped me at pinch of need.

Cats are a mysterious kind of folk.