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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519245" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Laudabunt Alii</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">(After Horace)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let others praise, as fancy wills,<br>Berlin beneath her trees,<br>Or Rome upon her seven hills,<br>Or Venice by her seas;<br>Stamboul by double tides embraced,<br>Or green Damascus in the waste.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For me there's nought I would not leave<br>For the good Devon land,<br>Whose orchards down the echoing cleeve<br>Bedewed with spray-drift stand,<br>And hardly bear the red fruit up<br>That shall be next year's cider-cup.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You too, my friend, may wisely mark<br>How clear skies follow rain,<br>And, lingering in your own green park<br>Or drilled on Laffan's Plain,<br>Forget not with the festal bowl<br>To soothe at times your weary soul.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When Drake must bid to Plymouth Hoe<br>Good-bye for many a day,<br>And some were sad and feared to go,<br>And some that dared not stay,<br>Be sure he bade them broach the best,<br>And raised his tankard with the rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Drake's luck to all that sail with Drake<br>For promised lands of gold!<br>Brave lads, whatever storms may break,<br>We've weathered worse of old!<br>To-night the loving-cup we'll drain,<br>To-morrow for the Spanish Main!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sir+Henry+Newbolt">Sir Henry Newbolt</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519245" data-title="Laudabunt Alii de Sir Henry Newbolt" data-description="(After Horace)

Let others praise, as fancy wills,
Berlin beneath her trees,
Or Rome upon her seven hills,
Or Venice by her seas;
Stamboul by double tides embraced,
Or green Damascus in the waste.

For me there's nought I would not leave
For the g..."></div>
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