My country, sir, is not a single spot
Of such a mould, or fixed to such a clime;
No! ’tis the social circle of my friends,
The loved community in which I’m linked,
And in whose welfare all my wishes centre.
Miller’s Mahomet.
* * * * *
Whose heart has ne’er within him burned
As home his footsteps he hath turned
From wandering on a foreign strand?