Respect was mingled with surprise, And the stern joy which warriors feel In foemen worthy of their steel.
But with morning cool repentance came.
My foot is on my native heath, and my name is MacGregor.
He turn'd his charger as he spake, Upon the river shore, He gave his bridle reins a shake, Said, "Adieu for evermore, my love, And adieu for evermore."
Within that awful volume lies The mystery of mysteries!
The misery of keeping a dog is his dying so soon. But, to be sure, if he lived for fifty years and then died, what would become of me?