Maxioms by Homer ("smyrns Of Chios")
If yet not lost to all the sense of shame.
If yet not lost to all the sense of shame.
Bursts as a wave that from the clouds impends,
And swell'd with tempests on the ship descends;
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Bursts as a wave that from the clouds impends,
And swell'd with tempests on the ship descends;
White are the decks with foam; the winds aloud
Howl o'er the masts, and sing through every shroud:
Pale, trembling, tir'd, the sailors freeze with fears;
And instant death on every wave appears.
Sinks my sad soul with sorrow to the grave.
Sinks my sad soul with sorrow to the grave.
Prophet of evil! never hadst thou yet
A cheerful word for me. To mark the signs
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Prophet of evil! never hadst thou yet
A cheerful word for me. To mark the signs
Of coming mischief is thy great delight,
Good dost thou ne'er foretell nor bring to pass.
