Homer ("Smyrns of Chios")

And what so tedious as a twice-told tale.

And what so tedious as a twice-told tale.

Strong are her sons, though rocky are her shores.

Strong are her sons, though rocky are her shores.

Soft as some song divine, thy story flows.

Soft as some song divine, thy story flows.

Our fruitless labours mourn,
And only rich in barren fame return.

Our fruitless labours mourn,
And only rich in barren fame return.

One who journeying
Along a way he knows not, having crossed
A place of drear extent, before read more

One who journeying
Along a way he knows not, having crossed
A place of drear extent, before him sees
A river rushing swiftly toward the deep,
And all its tossing current white with foam,
And stops and turns, and measures back his way.