Quotessence
Home / Authors / Walter Scott Books
Walter Scott

Walter Scott Books

Baronet Scott

Talisman

A source page for quotes linked to Walter Scott.

0 quotes

Works

A source page for quotes linked to Walter Scott.

0 quotes

Related Quotes

“That stream, Arthur,’ said the elder traveller, as with one consent they stopped to gaze on such a scene as I have described, ‘resembles the life of a good and a happy man.’ ‘And the brook, which hurries itself headlong down yon distant hill, marking its course by a streak of white foam,’ answered Arthur,—‘what does that resemble?’ ‘That of a brave and unfortunate one,’ replied his father. ‘The torrent for me,’ said Arthur; ‘a headlong course which no human force can oppose, and then let it be as brief as it is glorious’.... This stream, by a devious and gentle course, which seemed to indicate a reluctance to leave this quiet region, found its way at length out of the sequestered domain, and, like a youth hurrying from the gay and tranquil sports of boyhood into the wild career of active life, finally united itself with the boisterous torrent, which, breaking down tumultuously from the mountains, shook the ancient Tower of Geierstein as it rolled down the adjacent rock, and then rushed howling through the defile in which our youthful traveller had well-nigh lost his life.”

Life And Living
Book:Anne of Geierstein, or, The Maiden of the Mist ; Count Robert of Paris
Create image

“Patriotism 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? 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.”

NostalgiaPatriotism
Author:Walter Scott
Create image

“The Erl-King O, who rides by night thro’ the woodland so wild? It is the fond father embracing his child; And close the boy nestles within his loved arm, To hold himself fast, and to keep himself warm. “O father, see yonder! see yonder!” he says; “My boy, upon what doest thou fearfully gaze?” — “O, ’tis the Erl-King with his crown and his shroud.” “No, my son, it is but a dark wreath of the cloud.” (Tke Erl-King speaks.) “O come and go with me, thou loveliest child; By many a gay sport shall thy time be beguiled; My mother keeps for thee full many a fair toy, And many a fine flower shall she pluck for my boy.” “O, father, my father, and did you not hear The Erl-King whisper so low in my ear?” — “Be still, my heart’s darling — my child, be at ease; It was but the wild blast as it sung thro’ the trees.” Erl-King. “O wilt thou go with me, thou loveliest boy? My daughter shall tend thee with care and with joy; She shall bear thee so lightly thro’ wet and thro’ wild, And press thee, and kiss thee, and sing to my child.” “O father, my father, and saw you not plain, The Erl-King’s pale daughter glide past thro’ the rain?” — “O yes, my loved treasure, I knew it full soon; It was the grey willow that danced to the moon.” Erl-King. “O come and go with me, no longer delay, Or else, silly child, I will drag thee away.” — “O father! O father! now, now keep your hold, The Erl-King has seized me — his grasp is so cold!” Sore trembled the father; he spurr’d thro’ the wild, Clasping close to his bosom his shuddering child; He reaches his dwelling in doubt and in dread, But, clasp’d to his bosom, the infant was dead! - From the German of Goethe, translation, 1797.”

PoetryElven KingBlack ForestForest SpiritElven CharmErl KingErlkonigErlkönigThuringia
Book:Sir Walter Scott: Complete Works
Create image

“His anxiety about the safety of his son, his conjectures concerning the issue of his mission to the Duke of Burgundy, and a thousand other thoughts which recalled past events, or speculated on those which were to come, rushed upon his mind like the waves of a perturbed sea, and prevented all tendency to repose. He had been in bed about an hour, and sleep had not yet approached his couch, when he felt that the pallet on which he lay was sinking below him, and that he was in the act of descending along with it he knew not whither.”

Torrent
Book:Anne of Geierstein
Create image

“He approached his head to the dismal cavity, and heard, as at a great depth, the sound of a sullen and, as it seemed, subterranean stream. The sunless waves appeared murmuring for their victim. Death is dreadful at all ages; but in the first springtide of youth, with all the feelings of enjoyment afloat, and eager for gratification, to be snatched forcibly from the banquet to which the individual has but just sat down, is peculiarly appalling, even when the change comes in the ordinary course of nature. But to sit, like young Philipson, on the brink of the subterranean abyss, and ruminate in horrid doubt concerning the mode in which death was to be inflicted, was a situation which might break the spirit of the boldest; and the unfortunate captive was wholly unable to suppress the natural tears that flowed from his eyes in torrents, and which his bound arms did not permit him to wipe away. We have already noticed that, although a gallant young man in aught of danger which was to be faced and overcome by active exertion, the youth was strongly imaginative, and sensitive to a powerful extent to all those exaggerations which, in a situation of helpless uncertainty, fancy lends to distract the soul of him who must passively expect an approaching evil.”

Torrent
Book:Anne of Geierstein
Create image

“Away with this prating dotard,” said Front-de Boeuf, “lock him up in the chapel, to tell his beads till the broil be over. It will be a new thing to the saints in Torquilstone to hear aves and paters; they have not been so honoured, I trow, since they were cut out of stone.” “Blaspheme not the holy saints, Sir Reginald,” said De Bracy, “we shall have need of their aid to-day before yon rascal rout disband.” “I expect little aid from their hand,” said Front-de-Boeuf, “unless we were to hurl them from the battlements on the heads of the villains. There is a huge lumbering Saint Christopher yonder, sufficient to bear a whole company to the earth.”

BattleStatuesSaintsSiegeIvanhoe
Book:Ivanhoe
Create image

“- On m'appelle dans ce canton l'ermite de Copmanshurt. Et on y ajoute l'épithète de saint, mais je me trouve indigne d'une telle addition à mon nom. Et vous, sire chevalier, m'apprendrez-vous comment se nomme mon hôte ? - On m'appelle dans ce canton le Chevalier Noir, répondit le chevalier du tac au tac ; et on y ajoute l'épithète de « fainéant », mais je me trouve indigne d'une telle addition à mon nom. L'ermite ne put s'empêcher de sourire à cette réponse.”

Ivanhoe
Book:Ivanhoe
Create image

“Tudo nele é negro como a asa de um corvo. Não consigo ver mais nada que o possa distinguir melhor... mas, depois de o ter visto uma só vez empregando a sua força na batalha, creio que o reconheceria entre um milhar de guerreiros. Corre para a refrega como se o chamassem para um banquete. Há nele mais do que mera força, parece que o corpo e a alma se entregam em cada golpe que vibra ao inimigo. Que Deus o purifique do crime de derramamento de sangue! É terrível, mas magnífico, observar a maneira como o braço e o coração de um homem podem triunfar sobre centenas de outros homens. — Rebeca, descreveu um herói. Certamente, apenas descansam para refrescarem as forças ou descobrir um meio de atravessarem o fosso. Sob um chefe, tal como o descreveu, não há lugar para temores, nem para demoras amedrontadas, nem para hesitações num generoso empreendimento, uma vez que as dificuldades que o tomam árduo, tornam-no também glorioso. Juro, pela honra da minha casa; juro, pelo nome da minha bela amada, que suportaria de bom grado dez anos de cativeiro, para poder lutar um dia ao lado de tão grande cavaleiro numa refrega como esta! — Infelizmente — respondeu Rebeca, deixando o seu posto junto da janela e aproximando-se da cama do cavaleiro ferido — esse impaciente desejo de ação... essa luta e esse rancor contra a sua presente debilidade, não deixarão de ter efeitos prejudiciais sobre a sua combalida saúde. Como pode desejar infligir ferimentos a outrem, sem ver ainda curados os que recebeu? — Rebeca — volveu ele — não sabe como é impossível, para alguém treinado nas ações de cavalaria, permanecer passivo, como um padre ou como uma mulher, quando à sua volta se desenrolam feitos de honra! O amor da batalha é o alimento do qual vivemos... o pó da ‘mêlée’ é a respiração das nossas narinas! Não vivemos... não desejamos viver senão enquanto formos vitoriosos e afamados. Estas são as leis da Cavalaria, juradas por nós e às quais sacrificamos tudo o que nos é querido. — E o que é isso, valente cavaleiro, senão oferecer um sacrifício ao demónio da vaidade, e transformar-se em Moloch através do fogo! Que lhe resta como prémio de todo o sangue que derramou... De todos os trabalhos e dores que suportou... De todas as lágrimas que os seus feitos causaram, quando a morte quebra a espada do homem forte e ultrapassa a ligeireza do cavalo? — O que resta? — gritou Ivanhoe. — Glória! mulher, glória! Que doura o nosso sepulcro e perpetua o nosso nome. — Glória? — insistiu Rebeca. — Ai! A cota enferrujada pendurada como um brasão sobre o túmulo escuro, e desfazendo-se em pó... os caracteres desfigurados da inscrição que o ignorantemonge mal sabe ler ao curioso peregrino... Serão suficientes recompensas para o sacrifício de todos os generosos afetos, para uma vida miseravelmente passada a tornar os outros também miseráveis? Ou haverá alguma virtude nas rudes rimas de um bardo errante para que o amor caseiro, o quente afeto, a paz e a felicidade, sejam ferozmente afastados, para se tornar no herói dessas baladas que os menestréis vagabundos cantam à noite a rústicos bêbedos nadando em cerveja?”

IvanhoeHeróiRebecca Of York
Author:Walter Scott
Create image

“By the light which the fire afforded, Waverley could discover that his attendants were not of the clan Ivor, for Fergus was particularly strict in requiring from his followers that they should wear the tartan striped in the mode peculiar to their race; a mark of distinction anciently general through the Highlands, and still maintained by those Chiefs who were proud of their lineage, or jealous of their separate and exclusive authority.”

ClansHighlandersTartanFergus Mac Ivor
Book:Waverley
Create image

“But besides this, my father, though a Borderer, transacted business for many Highland Lairds, and particularly for one old man called Stuart of Invernahyle, who had been out both in 1715 and '45, and whose tales were the absolute delight of my childhood. I believe there never was a man who united the ardour of soldier and tale-teller - a man of "talk" as they call it in Gaelic - in such an excellent degree, and he was as fond of telling as I was of hearing. I became a valliant Jacobite at the age of ten years, and ever since reason and reading came to my assistance I have never quite got rid of the impression which the gallantry of Prince Charles made on my imagination.”

Walter ScottCharles Edward StuartJacobitism
Author:Walter Scott
Create image

“England was merry England, when Old Christmas brought his sports again. 'Twas Christmas broach'd the mightiest ale; 'Twas Christmas told the merriest tale; A Christmas gambol oft could cheer The poor man's heart through half the year.”

MenYearsHeartSportsPoorHalfEnglandTalesChristmasCheerMerryPoor ManInspirational ChristmasChristmas HolidayChristmas EveXmasChristmas ThoughtsBest ChristmasAleMerry Christmas InspirationalChristmas Holiday GreetingsBest HolidayChristmas CheerInspirational HolidayPositive HolidayChristmas FriendshipMerry Xmas Funny
Book:Poetical works
Create image

“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.”

NamesVoiceSkyArmsAwfulLoudSinnerFlashLightningVengeanceThunderVividHardened
Book:The Complete Short Stories of Sir Walter Scott: Chronicles of the Canongate, The Keepsake Stories, The Highland Widow, The Tapestried Chamber, Halidon Hill, Auchindrane and many more: From the Great Scottish Writer, Author of Waverly, Rob Roy, Ivanhoe, The Pirate, Old Mortality, The Guy Mannering, The Antiquary, Anne of Geierstein, The Betrothed and The Talisman
Create image

“My dear, be a good man be virtuous be religious be a good man. Nothing else will give you any comfort when you come to lie here. ...God bless you all.”

MenGivingLyingReligiousComfortDearGood ManBlessVirtuousLast WordsGod BlessGod Bless You
Book:The Complete Short Stories of Sir Walter Scott: Chronicles of the Canongate, The Keepsake Stories, The Highland Widow, The Tapestried Chamber, Halidon Hill, Auchindrane and many more: From the Great Scottish Writer, Author of Waverly, Rob Roy, Ivanhoe, The Pirate, Old Mortality, The Guy Mannering, The Antiquary, Anne of Geierstein, The Betrothed and The Talisman
Create image