Maxioms by Edward Young
A man of pleasure is a man of pains.
A man of pleasure is a man of pains.
We nothing know, but what is marvellous;
Yet what is marvellous, we can't believe.
We nothing know, but what is marvellous;
Yet what is marvellous, we can't believe.
Like birds, whose beauties languish half concealed,
Till, mounted on the wing, their glossy plumes
Expanded, shine read more
Like birds, whose beauties languish half concealed,
Till, mounted on the wing, their glossy plumes
Expanded, shine with azure, green and gold;
How blessings brighten as they take their flight.
Narcissus is the glory of his race:
For who does nothing with a better grace?
Narcissus is the glory of his race:
For who does nothing with a better grace?
The melancholy ghosts of dead renown,
Whispering faint echoes of the world's applause.
The melancholy ghosts of dead renown,
Whispering faint echoes of the world's applause.
