Sir Walter Scott

Loud o'er my head though awful thunders roll,
And vivid lightnings flash from pole to pole,
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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.

It is a proof of nobility of mind to despise injuries.

It is a proof of nobility of mind to despise injuries.

O, what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practise to deceive!

O, what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practise to deceive!

Profan'd the God-given strength, and marr'd the lofty line.

Profan'd the God-given strength, and marr'd the lofty line.

Let him who has granted a favour speak not of it; let him who has
received one, proclaim it.

Let him who has granted a favour speak not of it; let him who has
received one, proclaim it.