Every quotation a nineteenth-century speaker or writer might want, grouped under its subject, with the author, the date and the source given as exactly as Hoyt could manage.
Country, Love Of: Quotations from Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations
Now the summer's in prime Wi' the flowers richly blooming, And the wild mountain thyme A' the moorlands perfuming. To own dear native scenes Let us journey together, Where glad innocence reigns 'Mang the braes o' Balquhither.— ROBERT TANNAHILL — The Braes o'
There ought to be a system of manners in every nation which a well-formed mind would be disposed to relish. To make us love our country, our country ought to be lovely.— BURKE — Reflections on the Revolution in France. Vol. III. P. 100.
My dear, my native soil! For whom my warmest wish to Heav'n is sent, Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content!— BURNS — Cotter's Saturday Night. St. 20.
I can't but say it is an awkward sight To see one's native land receding through The growing waters; it unman's one quite, Especially when life is rather new.— BYRON — Don Juan. Canto II. St. 12.
Oh, Christ! it is a goodly sight to see What Heaven hath done for this delicious land!— BYRON — Childe Harold. Canto I. St. 15.
Yon Sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight; Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native land-Good Night!— BYRON — Childe Harold. Canto I. St. 13.
There came to the beach a poor Exile of Erin, The dew on his thin robe was heavy and chill; For his country he sigh'd, when at twilight repairing, To wander alone by the wind-beaten hill. CAMPBELL The Exile of Erin. O beautiful and grand, My own, my Native Land Of thee I boast: Great Empire of the West, The dearest and the best, Made up of all the rest, I love thee most.— ABRAHAM COLES — My Native Land.
England, with all thy faults, I love thee still- My Country! and, while yet a nook is left Where English minds and manners may be found, Shall be constrained to love thee.— COWPER — The Task. Bk. II. L. 206.
Without one friend, above all foes, Britannia gives the world repose.— COWPER — To Sir Joshua Reynolds.
And nobler is a limited command, Given by the love of all your native land, Than a successive title, long and dark, Drawn from the mouldy rolls of Noah's Ark.— DRYDEN — Absalom and Achitophel. Pt. I. L. 299.
So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar, But bind him to his native mountains more.— GOLDSMITH — The Traveller. L. 207.
They love their land, because it is their own, And scorn to give aught other reason why; Would shake hands with a king upon his throne, And think it kindness to his majesty.— FITZ — GREENE HALLECK-Connecticut.
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee, Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, Are all with thee, -are all with thee!— LONGFELLOW — The Building of the Ship.
Sweet the memory is to me Of a land beyond the sea, Where the waves and mountains meet.— LONGFELLOW — Amalfi. St. 1.
Who dare to love their country, and be poor.— POPE — On his Grotto at Twickenham.
Farewell, my dear country, so savage and hoar! I shall range on thy heath-covered Sinnburgh no more; For lo! I am snatched to a far distant shore, To wish for my country in vain.— RUSKIN — Shagram's Farewell to
Shetland. 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 !— SCOTT — Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto VI. St. 1.
Land of my sires! what mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band That knits me to thy rugged strand!— SCOTT — Lay of the Last Minstrel. Canto VI. St. 2.
My foot is on my native heath, and my name is MacGregor.— SCOTT — Rob Roy. Ch. XXXIV.