Merrily, merrily goes the bark On a breeze from the northward free, So shoots through the morning sky the lark, Or the swan through the summer sea.
Warriors! and where are warriors found, If not on martial Britain’s ground? And who, when waked with note of fire, Love more than they the British lyre?
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, morn of toil, nor night of waking.
Blud’s thicker than water.
The sun never sets on the immense empire of Charles V.
Wounds sustained for the sake of conscience carry their own balsam with the blow.
The schoolmaster is termed, classically, Ludi Magister, because he deprives boys of their play.
In prosperous times I have sometimes felt my fancy and powers of language flag, but adversity is to me at least a tonic and bracer.
Look at a gown of gold, and you will at least get a sleeve of it.
I was born a Scotsman and a bare one. Therefore I was born to fight my way in the world.
Spur not an unbroken horse; put not your plowshare too deep into new land.
The tear, down childhood’s cheek that flows, Is like the dewdrop on the rose; When next the summer breeze comes by And waves the bush, the flower is dry.
Now, it is well known, that a man may with more impunity be guilty of an actual breach either of real good breeding or of good morals, than appear ignorant of the most minute point of fashionable etiquette.
Some touch of Nature’s genial glow.
Honour is a homicide and a bloodspiller, that gangs about making frays in the street; but Credit is a decent honest man, that sits at hame and makes the pat play.
Earth walks on Earth, Glittering in gold; Earth goes to Earth, Sooner than it wold; Earth builds on Earth, Palaces and towers; Earth says to Earth, Soon, all shall be ours.
Woe to the youth whom Fancy gains, Winning from Reason’s hand the reins, Pity and woe! for such a mind Is soft contemplative, and kind.
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Contentions fierce, Ardent, and dire, spring from no petty cause.
Many of our cares are but a morbid way of looking at our privileges.