Walter Scott Quotes
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Along thy wild and willow'd shore.
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He is the best sailor who can steer within fewest points of the wind, and exact a motive power out of the greatest obstacles.
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Who o'er the herd would wish to reign,Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain!Vain as the leaf upon the stream,And fickle as a changeful dream;Fantastic as a woman's mood,And fierce as Frenzy's fever'd blood.Thou many-headed monster thing,Oh who would wish to be thy king!
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It is a strong castle, and strongly guarded; but there is no impossibility to brave men.
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'Lambe them, lads! lambe them!' a cant phrase of the time derived from the fate of Dr. Lambe, an astrologer and quack, who was knocked on the head by the rabble in Charles the First's time.
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Chivalry!-why, maiden, she is the nurse of pure and high affection-the stay of the oppressed, the redresser of grievances, the curb of the power of the tyrant-Nobility were but an empty name without her, and liberty finds the best protection in her lance and her sword.
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November’s sky is chill and drear,November’s leaf is red and sear.
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O fading honours of the dead!O high ambition, lowly laid!
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Bluid is thicker than water.
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The Sun never sets on the immense empire of Charles V.
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But with the morning cool reflection came.
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I cannot tell how the truth may be;I say the tale as 'twas said to me.
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Jock, when ye hae naething else to do, ye may be ay sticking in a tree; it will be growing, Jock, when ye're sleeping.
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The rose is fairest when 't is budding new,And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears.The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew,And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears.
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Steady of heart, and stout of hand.
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Call it not vain;-they do not err,Who say, that when the Poet dies,Mute Nature mourns her worshipper,And celebrates his obsequies.
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Profan'd the God-given strength, and marr'd the lofty line.
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Some feelings are to mortals givenWith less of earth in them than heaven;And if there be a human tearFrom passion's dross refined and clear,A tear so limpid and so meekIt would not stain an angel's cheek,'Tis that which pious fathers shedUpon a duteous daughter's head!
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Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West,Through all the wide Border his steed was the best.
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Oh, Brignal banks are wild and fair,And Greta woods are green,And you may gather garlands thereWould grace a summer's queen.
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Recollect that the Almighty, who gave the dog to be companion of our pleasures and our toils, hath invested him with a nature noble and incapable of deceit.
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A light on Marmion’s visage spread,And fired his glazing eye:With dying hand, above his head,He shook the fragment of his blade,And shouted 'Victory!-Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on!'Were the last words of Marmion.
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Thy hue, dear pledge, is pure and brightAs in that well-remember'd nightWhen first thy mystic braid was wove,And first my Agnes whisper'd love.
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A mother's pride, a father's joy.