Without one friend, above all foes, Britannia gives the world repose.

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.

This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea.

This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.

Spare feast! a radish and an egg.

I was a stricken deer, that left the herd / Long since.