Maxioms by Thomas Gray
Ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears.
Ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears.
To each his suff'rings; all are men,
Condemn'd alike to groan;
The tender for another's pain,
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To each his suff'rings; all are men,
Condemn'd alike to groan;
The tender for another's pain,
Th' unfeeling for his own.
Yet ah! why should they know their fate,
Since sorrow never comes too late,
And happiness too swiftly flies?
Thought would destroy their paradise.
Chill penury repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.
Chill penury repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.
A favorite has no friend!
A favorite has no friend!
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
