Sir Walter Scott

And let our barks across the pathless flood
Hold different courses.

And let our barks across the pathless flood
Hold different courses.

St. Leon raised his kindling eye,
And lifts the sparkling cup on high;
"I drink to one," read more

St. Leon raised his kindling eye,
And lifts the sparkling cup on high;
"I drink to one," he said,
"Whose image never may depart,
Deep graven on this grateful heart,
Till memory be dead."
. . . .
St. Leon paused, as if he would
Not breathe her name in careless mood
Thus lightly to another;
Then bent his noble head, as though
To give the word the reverence due,
And gently said, "My mother!"

A coward calls himself cautious, a miser thrifty.

A coward calls himself cautious, a miser thrifty.

But with the morning cool repentance came.

But with the morning cool repentance came.

O Caledonia! stern and wild,
Meet nurse for a poetic child!
Land of brown heath and shaggy read more

O Caledonia! stern and wild,
Meet nurse for a poetic child!
Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,
Land of the mountain and the flood,
Land of my sires! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band,
That knits me to thy rugged strand!