Sir Walter Scott

Land of my sires! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band
That knits me to read more

Land of my sires! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band
That knits me to thy rugged strand!

One hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled
with noble risks, is worth whole years read more

One hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled
with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry
decorum, in which men steal through existence, like sluggish waters
through a marsh, without either honour or observation.

And honeysuckle loved to crawl
Up the low crag and ruin'd wall.

And honeysuckle loved to crawl
Up the low crag and ruin'd wall.

Every cock fights best on his own dunghill.

Every cock fights best on his own dunghill.

In listening mood she seemed to stand,
The guardian Naiad of the strand.

In listening mood she seemed to stand,
The guardian Naiad of the strand.