Homer ("Smyrns of Chios")

Grief tears his heart, and drives him to and fro,
In all the raging impotence of woe.

Grief tears his heart, and drives him to and fro,
In all the raging impotence of woe.

To labour is the lot of man below;
And when Jove gave us life, he gave us woe.

To labour is the lot of man below;
And when Jove gave us life, he gave us woe.

He ceased: but left so charming on their ear
His voice, that listening still they seemed to hear.

He ceased: but left so charming on their ear
His voice, that listening still they seemed to hear.

Heroes as great have died, and yet shall fall.

Heroes as great have died, and yet shall fall.

Anger, which, far sweeter than trickling drops of honey, rises in
the bosom of a man like smoke.

Anger, which, far sweeter than trickling drops of honey, rises in
the bosom of a man like smoke.