Who remembers having to memorize this poem in high school English Class or in ND Country School? THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL... Sir Walter Scott 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 burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned 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 Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentered all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, not honored, and unsung.
Posted on: Sat, 31 Aug 2013 15:28:52 +0000
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