Homer ("Smyrns of Chios")

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.

Praise from a friend, or censure from a foe,
Are lost on hearers that our merits know.

Praise from a friend, or censure from a foe,
Are lost on hearers that our merits know.

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

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

Bursts as a wave that from the clouds impends,
And swell'd with tempests on the ship descends;
read more

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.

Thin, airy shoals of visionary ghosts.

Thin, airy shoals of visionary ghosts.