Maxioms by Homer ("smyrns Of Chios")
Hateful to me as are the gates of hell,
Is he who, hiding one thing in his heart,
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Hateful to me as are the gates of hell,
Is he who, hiding one thing in his heart,
Utters another.
And for our country 'tis a bliss to die.
And for our country 'tis a bliss to die.
Yet, taught by time, my heart has learned to glow
For other's good, and melt at other's woe.
Yet, taught by time, my heart has learned to glow
For other's good, and melt at other's woe.
It takes a great deal of history to produce a little literature.
It takes a great deal of history to produce a little literature.
Soft as some song divine, thy story flows.
Soft as some song divine, thy story flows.
