Maxioms by Edmund Spenser
There is no disputing about taste.
[Lat., De gustibus non disputandum.]
There is no disputing about taste.
[Lat., De gustibus non disputandum.]
It is an honourable thing to be merciful to the vanquished.
It is an honourable thing to be merciful to the vanquished.
And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore,
The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
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And on his brest a bloodie crosse he bore,
The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore.
And thus of all my harvest-hope I have
Nought reaped but a weedye crop of care.
And thus of all my harvest-hope I have
Nought reaped but a weedye crop of care.
The merry cuckow, messenger of Spring,
His trumpet shrill hath thrice already sounded.
The merry cuckow, messenger of Spring,
His trumpet shrill hath thrice already sounded.
