Incens'd with indignation Satan stood Unterrified, and like a comet burn'd, That fires the length of Ophiucus huge In th' arctic sky, and from his horrid hair Shakes pestilence and war.
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!walter scott
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