Chapter 1323 of 1964 · 64 words · ~1 min read

LXVI.

I've no great cause to love that spot of earth, Which holds what _might have been_ the noblest nation; But though I owe it little but my birth, I feel a mixed regret and veneration For its decaying fame and former worth. Seven years (the usual term of transportation) Of absence lay one's old resentments level, When a man's country's going to the devil.