William Drummond of Hawthornden Quotes

16 Sourced Quotes

This is the morn should bring unto this grove
My love, to hear and recompense my love.

William Drummond of Hawthornden
My thoughts hold mortal strife;
I do detest my life,
And with lamenting cries
Peace to my soul to bring
Oft call that prince which here doth monarchise:
— But he, grim-grinning King,
Who caitiffs scorns, and doth the blest surprise,
Late having deck'd with beauty's rose his tomb,
Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come.

William Drummond of Hawthornden
Here is the pleasant place,
And nothing wanted is, save She, alas!

William Drummond of Hawthornden
This Life, which seems so fair,
Is like a bubble blown up in the air
By sporting children's breath,
Who chase it every where

William Drummond of Hawthornden
For what doth serve all that this world contains,
Sith she for whom those once to me were dear,
No part of them can have now with me here?

William Drummond of Hawthornden
Doth then the world go thus, doth all thus move?
Is this the justice which on Earth we find?
Is this that firm decree which all doth bind?
Are these your influences, Powers above?

William Drummond of Hawthornden
Phoebus, arise,
And paint the sable skies,
With azure, white, and red.

William Drummond of Hawthornden
Of this fair volume which we World do name
If we the sheets and leaves could turn with care,
Of him who it corrects, and did it frame,
We clear might read the art and wisdom rare.

William Drummond of Hawthornden
The last and greatest herald of Heaven's King,
Girt with rough skins, hies to the deserts wild,
Among that savage brood the woods forth bring,
Which he than man more harmless found and mild.

William Drummond of Hawthornden
My lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow
With thy green mother in some shady grove,
When immelodious winds but made thee move,
And birds their ramage did on thee bestow.

William Drummond of Hawthornden
What doth it serve to see sun's burning face,
And skies enamelled with both the Indies' gold?
Or moon at night in jetty chariot roll'd,
And all the glory of that starry place?

William Drummond of Hawthornden
In all nations it is observed that there are some families fatal to the ruin of the Commonwealth and some persons fatal to the ruin of the house and race of which they are descended.

William Drummond of Hawthornden
God never had a church but there, men say,
The Devil a chapel hath raised by some wyles.
I doubted of this saw, till on a day
I westward spied great Edinburgh's Saint Gyles.

William Drummond of Hawthornden
Phoebus, arise!
And paint the sable skies
With azure, white, and red.

William Drummond of Hawthornden
Make an eternal spring;
Give life to this dark world which lieth dead.
Spread forth thy golden hair
In larger locks than thou wast wont before,
And emperor-like decore
With diadem of pearl thy temples fair.

William Drummond of Hawthornden
Thrice happy he, who by some shady grove, Far from the clamorous world; doth live his own; Though solitary, who is not alone, But doth converse with that eternal love.

William Drummond of Hawthornden