Sir Walter Scott

Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my read more

Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd,
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd,
From wandering on a foreign strand!

What skilful limner e'er would choose
To paint the rainbow's varying hues,
Unless to mortal it were read more

What skilful limner e'er would choose
To paint the rainbow's varying hues,
Unless to mortal it were given
To dip his brush in dyes of heaven?

He invites the commission of a crime who does not forbid it, when
it is in his power to read more

He invites the commission of a crime who does not forbid it, when
it is in his power to do so.

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.

Concealed anger is to be feared; but hatred openly manifested
destroys its chance of revenge.

Concealed anger is to be feared; but hatred openly manifested
destroys its chance of revenge.