“The wretch, concentred all in self,Living, shall forfeit fair renown,And, doubly dying, shall go downTo the vile dust, from whence he sprung,Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.”

“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.”

“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”

“I will but confess the sins of my green cloak to my grey friar's frock, and all shall be well again.”

“Fight on, brave knights! Man dies, but glory lives! Fight on; death is better than defeat! Fight on brave knights! for bright eyes behold your deeds!”

“Meantime the clang of the bows and the shouts of the combatants mixed fearfully with the sound of the trumpets, and drowned the groans of those who fell, and lay rolling defenceless beneath the feet of the horses. The splendid armour of the combatants was now defaced with dust and blood, and gave way at every stroke of the sword and battle-axe. The gay plumage, shorn from the crests, drifted upon the breeze like snowflakes. All that was beautiful in the martial array had disappeared, and what was now visibke was only calculated to awaken terror or compassion.”

“The misery of keeping a dog is his dying so soon. But, to be sure, if he lived for fifty years and then died, what would become of me?”