Strike--for your altars and your fires;
Strike--for the green graves of your sires.
God--and your native land!

Strike--for your altars and your fires;
Strike--for the green graves of your sires.
God--and your native land!

Our federal Union: it must be preserved.

Our federal Union: it must be preserved.

'Twere sweet to sink in death for Truth and Freedom!
Yes, who would hesitate, for who could bear
read more

'Twere sweet to sink in death for Truth and Freedom!
Yes, who would hesitate, for who could bear
The living degradation we may know
If we do dread death for a sacred cause?

Hear me profess sincerely: had I a dozen sons, each in my love
alike, and none less dear than read more

Hear me profess sincerely: had I a dozen sons, each in my love
alike, and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius, I had
rather have eleven die nobly for their country than one
voluptuously surfeit out of action.

Our country! In her intercourse with foreign nations, may she
always be in the right; but our country, right read more

Our country! In her intercourse with foreign nations, may she
always be in the right; but our country, right or wrong.

You're not supposed to be so blind with patriotism that you can't face reality. Wrong is wrong, no matter who read more

You're not supposed to be so blind with patriotism that you can't face reality. Wrong is wrong, no matter who says it.

I wish I was in de land ob cotton,
Ole times dar am not forgotten,
Look-a-way! Look-a-way! read more

I wish I was in de land ob cotton,
Ole times dar am not forgotten,
Look-a-way! Look-a-way! Look-a-way, Dixie Land!
. . . .
Den I wish I was in Dixie, Hooray! Hooray!
In Dixie Land I'll take my stand
To lib and die in Dixie.

'Twas for the good of my country that I should be abroad.
Anything for the good of one's country--I'm read more

'Twas for the good of my country that I should be abroad.
Anything for the good of one's country--I'm a Roman for that.

Our native land charms us with inexpressible sweetness, and never
never allows us to forget that we belong to read more

Our native land charms us with inexpressible sweetness, and never
never allows us to forget that we belong to it.
[Lat., Nescio qua natale solum dulcedine captos
Ducit, et immemores non sinit esse sui.]