Who never with humself was fed

Walter Scott:

"Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself has said,
This is my own, my native land! 
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned,
As home his footsteps he hath turned,
From wandering on a foreign strand!
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no Minstrel raptures swell;
High though his tides, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those tides, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonoured, and unsung."