Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land! Whose… — Walter Scott Copy Share Image
The way was long, the wind was cold, The Minstrel was infirm and old; His withered cheek, and tresses gray, Seemed to… — Walter Scott Copy Share Image
Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go… — Walter Scott Copy Share Image
“Of all the train, none escaped except Wamba, who showed upon the occasion much more courage than those who pretended to greater sense.” — Walter Scott Copy Share
Where shall the lover rest, Whom the fates sever From his true maiden's breast, Parted for ever? Where, through groves deep and high, Sounds… — Walter Scott Copy Share
O! many a shaft, at random sent, Finds mark the archer little meant! And many a word, at random spoken, May soothe or wound… — Walter Scott Copy Share
Where is the coward that would not dare to fight for such a land as Scotland? — Walter Scott Copy Share
Loud o'er my head though awful thunders roll, And vivid lightnings flash from pole to pole, Yet 'tis Thy voice, my God, that bids… — Walter Scott Copy Share
“but he had only received that sort of answer usually given by those who are more obstinate in following their own course, than strong… — Walter Scott Copy Share
“Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, and men below, and the saints above, for love is heaven, and heaven is love. ” — Walter Scott Copy Share
Fortune may raise up or abuse the ordinary mortal, but the sage and the soldier should have minds beyond her control. — Walter Scott Copy Share
In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed; In war, he mounts the warrior's steed; In halls, in gay attire is seen; In hamlets, dances… — Walter Scott Copy Share
Honour is a homicide and a bloodspiller, that gangs about making frays in the street; but Credit is a decent honest man, that sits… — Walter Scott Copy Share
“The lovers of the chase say that the hare feels more agony during the pursuit of the greyhounds, than when she is struggling in… — Walter Scott Copy Share
I am she, O most bucolical juvenal, under whose charge are placed the milky mothers of the herd. — Walter Scott Copy Share
