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.

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