History - The Devil's Scripture

I Loved My Country, And I Hated Him.

And Angling Too, That Solitary Vice, What Izaak Walton Sings Or Says: The Quaint, Old, Cruel Coxcomb, In His Gullet Should Have A Hook, And A Small Trout To Pull It.

Cervantes Smiled Spain's Chivalry Away.

But Words Are Things, And A Small Drop Of Ink, Falling Like Dew, Upon A Thought, Produces That Which Makes Thousands, Perhaps Millions, Think.

Scion Of Chiefs And Monarchs, Where Art Thou? Fond Hope Of Many Nations, Art Thou Dead? Could Not The Grave Forget Thee, And Lay Low Some Less Majestic, Less Beloved Head?