From “The Lay of the Last Minstrel,” Canto VI.

BREATHES there the man with soul so dead
Who never to himself hath said,
  This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart has 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...