Maxioms by Samuel Rogers
I am in Rome! Oft as the morning ray
Visits these eyes, waking at once I cry,
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I am in Rome! Oft as the morning ray
Visits these eyes, waking at once I cry,
Whence this excess of joy? What has befallen me?
And from within a thrilling voice replies,
Thou art in Rome! A thousand busy thoughts
Rush on my mind, a thousand images;
And I spring up as girt to run a race!
I lived to write, and wrote to live
I lived to write, and wrote to live
Nothing is so secure in its position as not to be in danger from
the attack even of the read more
Nothing is so secure in its position as not to be in danger from
the attack even of the weak.
The Good are better made by Ill,
As odours crushed are sweeter still.
The Good are better made by Ill,
As odours crushed are sweeter still.
