Maxioms by Homer ("smyrns Of Chios")
The windy satisfaction of the tongue.
The windy satisfaction of the tongue.
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.
Who ne'er knew salt, or heard the billows roar.
Who ne'er knew salt, or heard the billows roar.
Soft as some song divine, thy story flows.
Soft as some song divine, thy story flows.
Praise from a friend, or censure from a foe,
Are lost on hearers that our merits know.
Praise from a friend, or censure from a foe,
Are lost on hearers that our merits know.
