War is the father of us all, King of all. Some it makes gods, some it makes men, some it read more

War is the father of us all, King of all. Some it makes gods, some it makes men, some it makes slaves, some free.

Never, believe me,
Appear the Immortals,
Never alone.

Never, believe me,
Appear the Immortals,
Never alone.

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.

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.

The Ethiop gods have Ethiop lips,
Bronze cheeks, and woolly hair;
The Grecian gods are like the read more

The Ethiop gods have Ethiop lips,
Bronze cheeks, and woolly hair;
The Grecian gods are like the Greeks,
As keen-eyed, cold and fair.

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.]

Ye immortal gods! where in the world are we?
[Lat., O dii immortales! ubinam gentium sumus?]

Ye immortal gods! where in the world are we?
[Lat., O dii immortales! ubinam gentium sumus?]

Cupid is a casuist, a mystic, and a cabalist,--
Can your lurking thought surprise,
And interpret your read more

Cupid is a casuist, a mystic, and a cabalist,--
Can your lurking thought surprise,
And interpret your device,
. . . .
All things wait for and divine him,--
How shall I dare to malign him?

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.