British author of historical novels and ballads (1771-1832)

(3 votes)

Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below, and saints above For love is heaven, and heaven is love.
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
Oh, the tangled webs we weave When we practice to deceive.
To be always intending to live a new life, but never find time to set about it - this is as if a man should put off eating and drinking from one day to another till he be starved and destroyed.
We shall never learn to feel and respect our real calling and destiny, unless we have taught ourselves to consider everything as moonshine, compared with the education of the heart.
All men who have turned out worth anything have had the chief hand in their own education.
And come he slow, or come he fast, It is but death who comes at last.
He that climbs the tall tree has won right to the fruit.
Look back, and smile on perils past.
Oh, what a tangled web we weave, When first we practice to deceive
Oh, what tangled webs we weave, When we first practice to deceive.
Our time is like our money; when we change a guinea the shillings escape as things of small account; when we break a day by idleness in the morning, the rest of the hours lose their importance in our eyes.
The will to do, the soul to dare.
To all, to each, a fair good night, And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.
To all, to each, a fair good night, And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light.

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