Maxioms by Aaron Hill
When Christ at Cana's feast by pow'r divine,
Inspir'd cold water, with the warmth of wine,
See! read more
When Christ at Cana's feast by pow'r divine,
Inspir'd cold water, with the warmth of wine,
See! cry'd they while, in red'ning tide, it gush'd,
The bashful stream hath seen its God and blush'd.
Behold him in conceited circles sail,
Strutting and dancing and now planted stiff,
In all his pomp read more
Behold him in conceited circles sail,
Strutting and dancing and now planted stiff,
In all his pomp of pageantry, as if
He felt the eyes of Europe on his tail.
A man may cry, Church! Church! at ev'ry word,
With no pore piety than other people--
A read more
A man may cry, Church! Church! at ev'ry word,
With no pore piety than other people--
A daw's not reckoned a religious bird
Because it keeps a-cawing from a steeple.
At night, to his own sharp fancies a prey,
He lies like a hedgehog rolled up the wrong way,
read more
At night, to his own sharp fancies a prey,
He lies like a hedgehog rolled up the wrong way,
Tormenting himself with his prickles.
There's not a string attuned to mirth,
But has its chord in melancholy.
There's not a string attuned to mirth,
But has its chord in melancholy.
