You May Also Like / View all maxioms
When the gods wish to punish us, they answer our prayers.
When the gods wish to punish us, they answer our prayers.
Say, Bacchus, why so placid? What can there be
In commune held by Pallas and by thee?
read more
Say, Bacchus, why so placid? What can there be
In commune held by Pallas and by thee?
Her pleasure is in darts and battles; thine
In joyous feasts and draughts of rosy wine.
Who hearkens to the gods, the gods give ear.
Who hearkens to the gods, the gods give ear.
The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone.
The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone.
Creator Venus, genial power of love,
The bliss of men below, and gods above!
Beneath the sliding read more
Creator Venus, genial power of love,
The bliss of men below, and gods above!
Beneath the sliding sun thou runn'st thy race,
Dost fairest shine, and best become thy place;
For thee the winds their eastern blasts forbear,
Thy mouth reveals the spring, and opens all the year;
Thee, goddess, thee, the storms of winter fly,
Earth smiles with flowers renewing, laughs the sky.
And that dismal cry rose slowly
And sank slowly through the air,
Full of spirit's melancholy
read more
And that dismal cry rose slowly
And sank slowly through the air,
Full of spirit's melancholy
And eternity's despair!
And they heart the words it said--
Pan is dead! great Pan is dead!
Pan, Pan is dead!
There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
There's a little marble cross below the town,
read more
There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
There's a little marble cross below the town,
There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,
And the yellow god forever gazes down.
Shakes his ambroisal curls, and gives the nod,
The stamp of fate, and sanction of the god.
Shakes his ambroisal curls, and gives the nod,
The stamp of fate, and sanction of the god.
The confounding of all right and wrong, in wild fury, has averted
from us the gracious favor of the read more
The confounding of all right and wrong, in wild fury, has averted
from us the gracious favor of the gods.
[Lat., Omnia fanda, nefanda, malo permista furore,
Justificam nobis mentem avertere deorum.]