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• Strike--for your altars and your fires! Strike--for the green graves of your sires!
  God, and your native land! -- Fitz-Greene Halleck (1790-1867) -- Marco Bozzari...
• But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free, Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word
  And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be....
• Come to the bridal chamber, Death! Come to the mother's, when she feels For the first time her first-born's breath!
  Come when the blessed seals That close the pestilence are broke, And crowded cities wail its stroke!...
• This bank-note world. -- Fitz-Greene Halleck (1790-1867) -- Alnwick Castle
• There is an evening twilight of the heart, When its wild passion-waves are lulled to rest.
  -- Fitz-Greene Halleck (1790-1867) -- Twiligh...
• Lord Stafford mines for coal and salt, The Duke of Norfolk deals in malt, The Douglas in red herrings.
  -- Fitz-Greene Halleck (1790-1867) -- Alnwick Castle...
• Such graves as his are pilgrim shrines, Shrines to no code or creed confined,-- The Delphian vales, the Palestines, The Meccas of the mind.
  -- Fitz-Greene Halleck (1790-1867) -- Bu...
• Green be the turf above thee, Friend of my better days!
  None knew thee but to love thee, Nor named thee but to praise....
• 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....