Maxioms by Thomas Campbell
Who hath not own'd, with rapture-smitten frame,
The power of grace, the magic of a name.
Who hath not own'd, with rapture-smitten frame,
The power of grace, the magic of a name.
For Beauty's tears are lovelier than her smile.
For Beauty's tears are lovelier than her smile.
What we might call, by way of Eminence, the Dismal Science.
What we might call, by way of Eminence, the Dismal Science.
'Twas sung, how they were lovely in their lives,
And in their deaths had not divided been.
'Twas sung, how they were lovely in their lives,
And in their deaths had not divided been.
