Maxioms by 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.
Our fruitless labours mourn,
And only rich in barren fame return.
Our fruitless labours mourn,
And only rich in barren fame return.
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.
Now deep in ocean sunk the lamp of light,
And drew behind the cloudy vale of night.
Now deep in ocean sunk the lamp of light,
And drew behind the cloudy vale of night.
