I thought I saw my Uncle live again:
Dark hide, black mane, green eyes, that fateful scar.
Yet not a trace of cunning or disdain
Lies in the gaze that meets my watchful glare.
For when I look upon my daughter's mate
It's Taka sound in body and in mind
A creature ruled by love and not by hate
Thus might old Scar have looked, had Fate been kind.
The ancient stock of great kings running true
Unseen within the bloodline of the Pride
Has formed this Outland lion, young Kovu -
And so the Circle's joined from side to side.
My Uncle, be at peace; your work is done:
Your chosen heir shall be your nephew's son.