Maxioms by Sir Walter Scott
You whirled them to the back of beyont.
You whirled them to the back of beyont.
It is a proof of nobility of mind to despise injuries.
It is a proof of nobility of mind to despise injuries.
Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my read more
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,
From wandering on a foreign strand!
After a bad harvest sow again. [Yield not to difficulties.]
After a bad harvest sow again. [Yield not to difficulties.]
Where's the coward that would not dare
To fight for such a land?
Where's the coward that would not dare
To fight for such a land?
