Sir Walter Scott (1771–1832)

AH! County Guy, the hour is nigh,

The sun has left the lea,

The orange-flower perfumes the bower,

The breeze is on the sea.

The lark, his lay who trilled all day,

Sits hushed his partner nigh;

Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour,

But where is County Guy?

The village maid steals through the shade

Her shepherd’s suit to hear;

To beauty shy, by lattice high,

Sings high-born Cavalier;

The star of Love, all stars above,

Now reigns o’er earth and sky,

And high and low the influence know,—

But where is County Guy?