Sir Walter Scott

The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new,
And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears;
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The rose is fairest when 'tis budding new,
And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears;
The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew,
And love is loveliest when embalm'd in tears.

A foot more light, a step more true,
Ne'er from the heath-flower dashed the dew.

A foot more light, a step more true,
Ne'er from the heath-flower dashed the dew.

Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my read more

Breathes 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'd,
From wandering on a foreign strand!

He who asks with timidity invites a refusal.

He who asks with timidity invites a refusal.

Within that awful volume lies
The mystery of mysteries!
Happiest they of human race,
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Within that awful volume lies
The mystery of mysteries!
Happiest they of human race,
To whom God has granted grace
To read, to fear, to hope, to pray,
To lift the latch, and force the way:
And better had they ne'er been born,
Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.