"[...] a stone rolled down hill by an idle truant boy [...]. Even such is the course of a narrative like that which you are perusing. The earlier events are studiously dwelt upon, that you, kind reader, may be introduced to the character rather by narrative, than by the duller mdium of direct description; but when the story drwas near its close, we hurry over the circumstances, however important, which your imagination must hvae forestalled, and leave you to suppose those things which it would be abusing your patience to relate at length."

"There is no European nation which, within the course of half a century, or little more, has undergone so complete a change as this kingdom of Scotland. The effects of the insurrection of the 1745 — the destruction of the patriarchal power of the Highland chiefs — the abolition of the heritable jurisdictions of the Lowland nobility and barons — the total eradication of the Jacobite party [...]. [...] This race has now almost entirely vanished from the land, and with it, doubtless, much absurd political prejudice — but also many living examples of singular ad disinterested attachment to the principles of loyalty which they received from their fathers, and of old Scottish faith, hospitality, worth, and honour. [...] for the purpose of preserving some idea of the ancient manners of which I have witnessed the almost total extinction, I have embodied in imaginary scenes [...]."

"Now I protest to thee, gentle reader, that I entirely dissent from Francisco de Ubeda in this matter, and hold it the most useful quality of my pen, that it can speedily change from grave to gay, and from description and dialogue to narrative and character. So that, if my quill display no other propertoies of its mothergoose than her mutability, truly I shall be well pleased; and I conceive that you, my worthy friend, will have no occasion for discontent. From the jargon, therefore, of the Highland gillies, I pass to the character of their Chief. It is an important examination, and therefore, like Dogberry, we must spare no wisdom."

"O! many a shaft at random sent Finds mark the archer little meant! And many a word, at random spoken, May soothe or wound a heart that's broken!"

"Pride and jealousy there was in his eye, for his life had been spent in asserting rights which were constantly liable to invasion; and the prompt, fiery, and resolute disposition of the man, had been kept constantly upon the alert by the circumstances of his situation."

"Still are the thoughts to memory dear."

"Where, where was Roderick then! One blast upon his bugle-horn Were worth a thousand men."

"A mother's pride, a father's joy."

"Respect was mingled with surprise, And the stern joy which warriors feel In foeman worthy of their steel."

"Come one, come all! this rock shall fly From its firm base as soon as I."

"Who o'er the herd would wish to reign, Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain! Vain as the leaf upon the stream, And fickle as a changeful dream; Fantastic as a woman's mood, And fierce as Frenzy's fever'd blood. Thou many-headed monster thing, Oh who would wish to be thy king!"

"Oh, Brignal banks are wild and fair, And Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands there Would grace a summer's queen."

"Like the dew on the mountain, Like the foam on the river, Like the bubble on the fountain, Thou art gone, and forever!"

"Time rolls his ceaseless course."

"The rose is fairest when 't is 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."

"Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances!"

"Some feelings are to mortals given With less of earth in them than heaven; And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek It would not stain an angel's cheek, 'Tis that which pious fathers shed Upon a duteous daughter's head!"

"Art thou a friend to Roderick?"

"Thus aged men, full loth and slow, The vanities of life forego, And count their youthful follies o'er, Till Memory lends her light no more."

"And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace Of finer form or lovelier face."

"With head upraised, and look intent, And eye and ear attentive bent, And locks flung back, and lips apart, Like monument of Grecian art, In listening mood, she seemed to stand, The guardian Naiad of the strand."

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

"To all, to each, a fair good-night, And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light!"

"O, Woman! in our hours of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made; When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou!"

"The stag at eve had drunk his fill, Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, And deep his midnight lair had made In lone Glenartney's hazel shade."

"On his bold visage middle age Had slightly pressed its signet sage, Yet had not quenched the open truth And fiery vehemence of youth; Forward and frolic glee was there, The will to do, the soul to dare, The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire, Of hasty love or headlong ire."

"Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best."

"When Prussia hurried to the field, And snatch'd the spear, but left the shield."

"And darest thou then To beard the lion in his den, The Douglas in his hall?"

"Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking; Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking."

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

"No pale gradations quench his ray, No twilight dews his wrath allay."

"He’s expected at noon, and no wight till he comes May profane the great chair, or the porridge of plums; For the best of the cheer, and the seat by the fire, Is the undenied right of the Barefooted Friar."

"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, unhonor'd, and unsung."

"True love's the gift which God has given To man alone beneath the heaven: It is not fantasy's hot fire, Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly; It liveth not in fierce desire, With dead desire it doth not die; It is the secret sympathy, The silver link, the silken tie, Which heart to heart, and mind to mind In body and in soul can bind."

"O Caledonia! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, Land of the mountain and the flood!"

"For ne'er Was flattery lost on poet's ear: A simple race! they waste their toil For the vain tribute of a smile."

"Along thy wild and willow'd shore."

"Call it not vain;—they do not err, Who say, that when the Poet dies, Mute Nature mourns her worshipper, And celebrates his obsequies."

"That day of wrath, that dreadful day, When heaven and earth shall pass away, What power shall be the sinner's stay? How shall he meet that dreadful day?"

"I cannot tell how the truth may be; I say the tale as 'twas said to me."

"I was not always a man of woe."

"In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed; In war, he mounts the warrior's steed; In halls, in gay attire is seen; In hamlets, dances on the green. Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below, and saints above; For love is heaven, and heaven is love."

"If thou would'st view fair Melrose aright, Go visit it by the pale moonlight."

"O fading honours of the dead! O high ambition, lowly laid!"

"Her blue eyes sought the west afar, For lovers love the western star."

"Stood for his country’s glory fast, And nail’d her colours to the mast!"

"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."

"Thy hue, dear pledge, is pure and bright As in that well-remember'd night When first thy mystic braid was wove, And first my Agnes whisper'd love."

"The way was long, the wind was cold, The Minstrel was infirm and old; His withered cheek, and tresses gray, Seemed to have known a better day."