The Lay of the Last Minstrel [excerpt]

    The Lay of the Last Minstrel [excerpt] by 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, concentred all in self, 
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down 
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonored , and unsung.

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About thelastminstrel

Carpenter, very minor poet and writer, history buff, frustrated prospector, singer, guitar player [I'm still trying to convince the guitar that I'm not going to hurt it] the most eclectic reader I know, second born of four brothers, father of two sons,-------

Posted on January 18, 2011, in Borrowed Rymes. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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