Sir Walter Scott

One hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled
with noble risks, is worth whole years read more

One hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled
with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry
decorum, in which men steal through existence, like sluggish waters
through a marsh, without either honour or observation.

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!

Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife!
To all the sensual world proclaim,
One crowded hour of read more

Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife!
To all the sensual world proclaim,
One crowded hour of glorious life
Is worth an age without a name.

Vengeance to God alone belongs;
But, when I think of all my wrongs
My blood is liquid read more

Vengeance to God alone belongs;
But, when I think of all my wrongs
My blood is liquid flame!

Heap on more wood! the wind is chill; But let it whistle as it will, We'll keep our Christmas merry read more

Heap on more wood! the wind is chill; But let it whistle as it will, We'll keep our Christmas merry still.