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In the lost battle, Borne down by the flying, Where mingles war's rattle With groans of the dying.
Walter Scott
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Walter Scott
Age: 61 †
Born: 1771
Born: August 15
Died: 1832
Died: September 21
Baronet Scott
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Edinburgh
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Walter Skott
Jedediah Cleishbotham
Laurence Templeton
Somnambulus
Malachi Malagrowther
Sir Walter Scott
Bart.
Sir Walter Scott
Sir Walter Scott
1st Baronet
Great Magician
The Great Unknown
Battle
Dying
War
Mingles
Lost
Groans
Rattle
Borne
Flying
Losing
More quotes by Walter Scott
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?
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Some feelings are to mortals given With less of earth in them than heaven.
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Still are the thoughts to memory dear.
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The willow which bends to the tempest often escapes better than the oak which resists it.
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For love is heaven and heaven is love.
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My hope, my heaven, my trust must be, My gentle guide, in following thee.
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The man who is deserving the name is the one whose thoughts and exertions are for others rather than for himself.
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Each must drain His share of pleasure, share of pain.
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Ridicule, the weapon of all others most feared by enthusiasts of every description, and which from its predominance over such minds, often checks what is absurd, and fully as often smothers that which is noble.
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Thus aged men, full loth and slow, The vanities of life forego, And count their youthful follies o'er, Till Memory lends her light no more.
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For Love will still be lord of all.
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The Book of Books Within this ample volume lies The mystery of mysteries. Happiest they of human race To whom their God has given grace To read, to fear, to hope, to pray, To lift the latch, to force the way But better had they ne'er been born That read to doubt or read to scorn.
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The heart-sick faintness of the hope delayed!
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In that pleasant district of merry England which is watered by the river Don, there extended in ancient times a large forest, covering the greater part of the beautiful hills and valleys which lie between Sheffield and the pleasant town of Doncaster.
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Fortune may raise up or abuse the ordinary mortal, but the sage and the soldier should have minds beyond her control.
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We do that in our zeal our calmer moment would be afraid to answer.
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Heap on more wood! - the wind is chill But let it whistle as it will, We'll keep our Christmas merry still.
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For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of Lochinvar.
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I like a highland friend who will stand by me not only when I am in the right, but when I am a little in the wrong.
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Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances!
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