Maxioms by James Thomson (1)
Base envy withers at another's joy,
And hates that excellence it cannot reach.
Base envy withers at another's joy,
And hates that excellence it cannot reach.
In ancient times, the sacred Plough employ'd
The Kings and awful Fathers of mankind:
And some, with read more
In ancient times, the sacred Plough employ'd
The Kings and awful Fathers of mankind:
And some, with whom compared your insect-tribes
Are but the beings of a summer's day,
Have held the Scale of Empire, ruled the Storm
Of mighty War; then, with victorious hand,
Disdaining little delicacies, seized
The Plough, and, greatly independent, scorned
All the vile stores corruption can bestow.
Slow let us trace the matchless vale of Thames;
Fair winding up to where the Muses haunt
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Slow let us trace the matchless vale of Thames;
Fair winding up to where the Muses haunt
In Twit'nham bowers, and for their Pope implore.
The swallow sweeps
The slimy pool, to build his hanging house.
The swallow sweeps
The slimy pool, to build his hanging house.
'Tis silence all,
And pleasing expectation.
'Tis silence all,
And pleasing expectation.
