Maxioms by Homer ("smyrns Of Chios")
Soft as some song divine, thy story flows.
Soft as some song divine, thy story flows.
He held his seat; a friend to human race.
He held his seat; a friend to human race.
Anger, which, far sweeter than trickling drops of honey, rises in
the bosom of a man like smoke.
Anger, which, far sweeter than trickling drops of honey, rises in
the bosom of a man like smoke.
A mass enormous! which, in modern days
No two of earth's degenerate sons could raise.
A mass enormous! which, in modern days
No two of earth's degenerate sons could raise.
All, soon or late, are doom'd that path to tread.
All, soon or late, are doom'd that path to tread.
