Great God! hast Thou given men Thine own image that it should be thus cruelly defaced by the hands of their brethren!

Your lordship’s servant has a sensible, natural, pretty idea of military matters; somewhat irregular, though, and smells a little too much of selling the bear’s skin before he has hunted him.

A ruin should always be protected but never repaired - thus may we witness full the lingering legacies of the past.

In the lost battle, Borne down by the flying, Where mingles war's rattle With groans of the dying.

Hail to the chief in triumph advances.

Still from the sire the son shall hear Of the stern strife, and carnage drear, Of Flodden's fatal field, When shiver'd was fair Scotland's spear, And broken was her shield!