“Breathes there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land.”

“PatriotismBreathes 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'dFrom wandering on a foreign strand? If such there breathe, go, mark him well; For him no Minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung,Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung.”

“Blessed be his name, who hath appointed the quiet night to follow the busy day, and the calm sleep to refresh the wearied limbs and to compose the troubled spirit.”

“I have heard men talk about the blessings of freedom," he said to himself, "but I wish any wise man would teach me what use to make of it now that I have it.”

“Many a law, many a commandment have I broken, but my word never.”

“It has often been remarked of the Scottish character, that the stubbornness with which it is moulded shows most to advantage in adversity, when it seems akin to the native sycamore of their hills, which scorns to be biassed in its mode of growth even by the influence of the prevailing wind, but, shooting its branches with equal boldness in every direction, shows no weather-side to the storm, and may be broken, but can never be bended.”

“Albert GraemeIt was an English ladye bright,(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall)And she would marry a Scottish knight,For Love will still be lord of all.Blithely they saw the rising sunWhen he shone fair on Carlisle wall;But they were sad ere day was done,Though Love was still the lord of all.Her sire gave brooch and jewel fine,Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall;Her brother gave but a flask of wine,For ire that Love was lord of all.For she had lands both meadow and lea,Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,For he swore her death, ere he would seeA Scottish knight the lord of all.That wine she had not tasted well(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall)When dead, in her true love's arms, she fell,For Love was still the lord of all!He pierced her brother to the heart,Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,So perish all would true love partThat Love may still be lord of all!And then he took the cross divine,Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,And died for her sake in Palestine;So Love was still the lord of all.Now all ye lovers, that faithful prove,(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall)Pray for their souls who died for love,For Love shall still be lord of all!-- Canto 6”