Maxioms by Homer ("smyrns Of Chios")
Not hate, but glory, made these chiefs contend;
And each brave foe was in his soul a friend.
Not hate, but glory, made these chiefs contend;
And each brave foe was in his soul a friend.
It takes a great deal of history to produce a little literature.
It takes a great deal of history to produce a little literature.
Who fears to speak of Ninety-Eight?
Who blushes at the name?
When cowards mock the patriot's fate,
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Who fears to speak of Ninety-Eight?
Who blushes at the name?
When cowards mock the patriot's fate,
Who hangs his head for shame?
He held his seat; a friend to human race.
He held his seat; a friend to human race.
'Tis fortune gives us birth,
But Jove alone endues the soul with worth.
'Tis fortune gives us birth,
But Jove alone endues the soul with worth.
