| 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 | 5 |
| 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; | 10 |
| 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, | 15 |
| Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung. - Patriotism, Sir Walter Scott [1771-1832] |
