Sir Walter Scott ，1771—1832，the great Scotch poet and novelist，was born in Edinburgh.Being a feeble child，he was sent to reside on his grandfather's estate in the south of Scotland.Here he spent several years，and gained much knowledge of the traditions of border warfare，as well as of the tales and ballads pertaining to it.He was also a great reader of romances in his youth.In 1779 be returned to Edinburgh，and became a pupil in the high school.Four years later，he entered the university；but in neither school nor college，was he distinguished for scholarship.In 1797 he was admitted to the practice of law，——a profession which he soon forsook for literature.His first poems appeared in 1802.The “Lay of the Last Minstrel”was published in 1805，“Marmion”in 1808，and “The Lady of the Lake”in 1810.Several poems of less power followed.In 1814 “Waverley，”his first novel，made its appearance，but the author was unknown for some time.Numerous other novels followed with great rapidity，the author reaping a rich harvest both in fame and money.In 1811 he purchased an estate near the Tweed，to which he gave the name of Abbotsford.In enlarging his estate and building a costly house，he spent vast sums of money.This，together with the failure of his publishers in 1826，involved him very heavily in debt.But he set to work with almost superhuman effort to pay his debts by the labors of his pen.In about four years，he had paid more than $ 300，000；but the effort was too much for his strength，and hastened his death.
In person，Scott was tall，and apparently robust，except a slight lameness with which he was affected from childhood.He was kindly in disposition，hospitable in manner，fond of outdoor pursuits and of animals，especially dogs.He wrote with astonishing rapidity，and always in the early morning.At his death，he left two sons and two daughters.A magnificent monument to his memory has been erected in the city of his birth.The following selection is from “The Lady of the Lake.”
Soldier，rest！thy warfare o'er，
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking；
Dream of battlefields no more，
Days of danger，nights of waking.
In our isle's enchanted hall，
Hands unseen thy couch are strewing，
Fairy strains of music fall，
Every sense in slumber dewing.
Soldier，rest！thy warfare o'er，
Dream of battlefields no more；
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking，
Morn of toil，nor night of waking.
No rude sound shall reach thine ear，
Armor's clang，or war steed champing，
Trump nor pibroch summon here
Mustering clan，or squadron tramping.
Yet the lark's shrill fife may come，
At the daybreak from the fallow，
And the bittern sound his drum，
Booming from the sedgy shallow.
Ruder sounds shall none be near，
Guards nor warders challenge here，
Here's no war steed's neigh and champing，
Shouting clans or squadrons stamping.
Huntsman，rest！thy chase is done；
While our slumb'rous spells assail ye，
Dream not，with the rising sun，
Bugles here shall sound reveille.
Sleep！the deer is in his den；
Sleep！thy hounds are by thee lying；
Sleep！nor dream in yonder glen，
How thy gallant steed lay dying.
Huntsman，rest；thy chase is done，
Think not of the rising sun，
For at dawning to assail ye，
Here no bugle sounds reveille.
译文 TRANSLATION
沃尔特·司各特爵士（1771—1832），伟大的苏格兰诗人、小说家，生于爱丁堡。幼年时，身体羸弱的司各特，曾被送往祖父位于苏格兰南部的庄园休养。在庄园那几年，司各特谙熟了边区战事的诸般传统和相关的佚事、歌谣。年轻时，司各特嗜读“罗曼司”传奇。1779年，他回到爱丁堡上中学。四年后，进入大学。然而，无论在中学还是大学，司各特都不以学业见长。1797年，他获准从业法律，但不久他就弃法从文。司各特最早的诗作发表于1802年。随后，在1805年，发表《最后的游吟诗人之歌》，1808年发表《玛密安》，1810年发表《湖上夫人》。继之，他写了一些稍弱的诗。1814年，他匿名发表第一部小说《威弗利》，随之一发不可收，连续推出多部小说，这使司各特名利双收。1811年，司各特在特维德附近购置了一处庄园，将其命名为“艾伯福德”，并耗用巨资用于扩园和筑屋。为此，再加上1826年其出版商的经营失败，司各特债台高筑。为偿还债务，司各特以超人的能量投入辛勤的笔耕。在大约四年的时间里，司各特偿还了三十多万美元。但这长时间超负荷的工作使司各特积劳成疾，一病不起。
司各特身材高大、精力充沛，但受小儿麻痹症的影响而有些微跛。他性情温和，举止殷勤，爱好户外运动并喜爱动物，尤其是狗。司各特下笔神速，总是在清晨写作。在身后，司各特留下了两儿和两女。在他的故乡爱丁堡有一座巨大的司各特纪念碑。下面的选段出自《湖上夫人》。
休息吧，士兵！战事已结束。
睡吧，不受打扰地睡吧。
不必再梦到疆场，不必再梦到
那些危险的日子，那些警醒的夜晚！
在我们岛上那施了魔法的大厅，
看不见的手已为你铺好床铺，
美妙的音乐淡去，睡意渐浓。
休息吧，士兵！战事已结束。
睡吧，不受打扰地睡吧。
忘却那辛劳的清晨，忘却那警醒的夜晚。
不再听到粗野的厮杀，
也不再听到铠甲的铿铮和战马的咀嚼，
没有了号角和风笛的召唤，
也没有了集结的宗族和马队的杂沓；
而云雀也许会吹响它清亮的笛，
在破晓时分，在休耕的土地上；
麻鸦也许会擂响它的鼓，
隆隆地回荡在浅浅的莎草间。
除此，再没有粗野的声响。
没有哨兵和守卫的盘诘；
没有战马在喷响鼻、在咀嚼，
没有呐喊的宗族、没有马队的杂沓。
猎手，休息吧！狩猎已结束。
当睡意的魔咒锁住了你，
别去梦那起床的号角
伴着朝阳又一次吹响；
睡吧，鹿在它的巢穴里；
睡吧，猎犬依偎在你身旁。
睡吧，别去梦山谷里
你高傲的战马僵卧在地上；
猎手，休息吧！狩猎已结束。
别去想那初生的朝阳，
因为睡意的魔咒锁住了你，
黎明，再没有起床的号角响起。
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