Respect was mingled with surprise, And the stern joy which warriors feel In foemen worthy of their steel.

Treason seldom dwells with courage.

Breathes there the man with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land.

Soldier, rest! Thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Dream of battled fields no more. Days of danger, nights of waking.

Blessed be his name, who hath appointed the quiet night to follow the busy day, and the calm sleep to refresh the wearied limbs and to compose the troubled spirit.

Hurry no man's cattle; you may come to own a donkey yourself

A ruin should always be protected but never repaired - thus may we witness full the lingering legacies of the past.