Homer ("Smyrns of Chios")

Grief tears his heart, and drives him to and fro,
In all the raging impotence of woe.

Grief tears his heart, and drives him to and fro,
In all the raging impotence of woe.

It never was our guise
To slight the poor, or aught humane despise.

It never was our guise
To slight the poor, or aught humane despise.

I hate
To tell again a tale once fully told.

I hate
To tell again a tale once fully told.

A happier lot were mine,
If I must lose thee, to go down to earth,
For I read more

A happier lot were mine,
If I must lose thee, to go down to earth,
For I shall have no hope when thou art gone,--
Nothing but sorrow. Father have I none,
And no dear mother.

Like strength is felt from hope, and from despair.

Like strength is felt from hope, and from despair.