Revenge is the sweetest morsel to the mouth, that ever was cooked in hell.
Walter Scott, The Heart of Midlothian, Ch. 30 (1818).
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Dream of fighting fields no more: Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Morn of toil, nor night of waking.Walter Scott
No repose for Sir Walter but in the grave. Friends, don't let me expose myself get me to bed that's the only place.Walter Scott
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, morn of toil, nor night of waking.Walter Scott
Time will rust the sharpest sword, Time will consume the strongest cord; That which molders hemp and steel, Mortal arm and nerve must feel.Walter Scott
Here eglantine embalm'd the air, Hawthorne and hazel mingled there; The primrose pale, and violet flower, Found in each cliff a narrow bower; Fox-glove and nightshade, side by side, Emblems of punishment and pride, Group'd their dark hues with every stain The weather-beaten crags retain.Walter Scott
And better had they ne'er been born, Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.Walter Scott
Revenge is the sweetest morsel to the mouth, that ever was cooked in hell.Walter Scott
Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can, Come saddle your horses, and call up your men; Come open the West Port, and let me gang free, And it's room for the bonnets of Bonny Dundee!Walter Scott
Stood for his country’s glory fast, And nail’d her colours to the mast!Walter Scott
Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best.Walter Scott
Oh for a blast of that dread horn On Fontarabian echoes borne!Walter Scott
Like the dew on the mountain, Like the foam on the river, Like the bubble on the fountain, Thou art gone, and forever!Walter Scott
Women are but the toys which amuse our lighter hours-ambition is the serious business of life.Walter Scott
Where lives the man that has not tried How mirth can into folly glide, And folly into sin!Walter Scott
The sun never sets on the immense empire of Charles V.Walter Scott
Contentions fierce, Ardent, and dire, spring from no petty cause.Walter Scott
Like the dew on the mountain, like the foam on the river, like the bubble on the fountain, thou art gone, and for ever!Walter Scott
Merrily, merrily goes the bark On a breeze from the northward free, So shoots through the morning sky the lark, Or the swan through the summer sea.Walter Scott
Warriors! and where are warriors found, If not on martial Britain's ground? And who, when waked with note of fire, Love more than they the British lyre?Walter Scott
Land of my sires! what mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band That knits me to thy rugged strand!Walter Scott
Still from the sire the son shall hear Of the stern strife, and carnage drear, Of Flodden's fatal field, When shiver'd was fair Scotland's spear, And broken was her shield!Walter Scott
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