"Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart untravelled fondly turns to thee;
Such is the patriot's boast where'er we roam;
His first, best country, ever is at home.
And trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand,
Far, far away thy children leave the land.
Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey,
Where wealth accumulates, and men decay:
Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade;
A breath can make them, as a breath has made;