Maxioms by Homer ("smyrns Of Chios")
Praise me not too much,
Nor blame me, for thou speakest to the Greeks
Who know me.
Praise me not too much,
Nor blame me, for thou speakest to the Greeks
Who know me.
Who fears to speak of Ninety-Eight?
Who blushes at the name?
When cowards mock the patriot's fate,
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Who fears to speak of Ninety-Eight?
Who blushes at the name?
When cowards mock the patriot's fate,
Who hangs his head for shame?
All, soon or late, are doom'd that path to tread.
All, soon or late, are doom'd that path to tread.
'Tis true; 'tis certain; man though dead retains
Part of himself; the immortal mind remains.
'Tis true; 'tis certain; man though dead retains
Part of himself; the immortal mind remains.
Then let him know that hatred without end
Or intermission is between us two.
Then let him know that hatred without end
Or intermission is between us two.
