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Call it not vain: they do not err Who say that when the poet dies Mute Nature mourns her worshipper, And celebrates his obsequies.

Walter Scott

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Walter Scott
Age: 61 †
Born: 1771
Born: August 15
Died: 1832
Died: September 21
Baronet Scott
Biographer
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Lawyer
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Literary Critic
Musicologist
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Poet
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Edinburgh
Scotland
Walter Skott
Jedediah Cleishbotham
Laurence Templeton
Somnambulus
Malachi Malagrowther
Sir Walter Scott
Bart.
Sir Walter Scott
Sir Walter Scott
1st Baronet
Great Magician
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Call
Worshipper
Dies
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Poet
Mourns

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Oh, Brignall banks are wild and fair, And Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands there Would grace a summer's queen.
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I was not always a man of woe.
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Blud's thicker than water.
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Here is neither want of appetite nor mouths, Pray heaven we be not scant of meat or mirth.
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A ruin should always be protected but never repaired - thus may we witness full the lingering legacies of the past.
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Some feelings are to mortals given With less of earth in them than heaven.
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O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?
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Loud o'er my head though awful thunders roll, And vivid lightnings flash from pole to pole, Yet 'tis Thy voice, my God, that bids them fly, Thy arm directs those lightnings through the sky. Then let the good Thy mighty name revere, And hardened sinners Thy just vengeance fear.
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Meat eaten without either mirth or music is ill of digestion.
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I am she, O most bucolical juvenal, under whose charge are placed the milky mothers of the herd.
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Thou hast had thty day, old dame, but thy sun has long been set. Thou art now the very emblem of an old warhorse turned out on the barren heath thou hast had thy paces in thy time, but now a broken amble is the best of them.
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Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, morn of toil, nor night of waking.
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I cannot tell how the truth may be I say the tale as it was said to me.
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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!
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We shall never learn to feel and respect our real calling and destiny, unless we have taught ourselves to consider every thing as moonshine, compared with the education of the heart.
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Come forth, old man,--thy daughter's side Is now the fitting place for thee: When time has quell'd the oak's bold pride, The youthful tendril yet may hide, The ruins of the parent tree.
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Greatness of any kind has no greater foe than a habit of drinking.
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True love's the gift which God has given to man alone beneath the heaven.
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Look at a gown of gold, and you will at least get a sleeve of it.
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O! many a shaft, at random sent, Finds mark the archer little meant! And many a word, at random spoken, May soothe or wound a heart that's broken!
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