Homer ("Smyrns of Chios")

This, this is misery! the last, the worst,
That man can feel.

This, this is misery! the last, the worst,
That man can feel.

Praise me not too much,
Nor blame me, for thou speakest to the Greeks
Who know me.

Praise me not too much,
Nor blame me, for thou speakest to the Greeks
Who know me.

Bursts as a wave that from the clouds impends,
And swell'd with tempests on the ship descends;
read more

Bursts as a wave that from the clouds impends,
And swell'd with tempests on the ship descends;
White are the decks with foam; the winds aloud
Howl o'er the masts, and sing through every shroud:
Pale, trembling, tir'd, the sailors freeze with fears;
And instant death on every wave appears.

Born but to banquet, and to drain the bowl.

Born but to banquet, and to drain the bowl.

Just are the ways of heaven; from Heaven proceed
The woes of man: Heaven doom'd the Greeks to bleed.

Just are the ways of heaven; from Heaven proceed
The woes of man: Heaven doom'd the Greeks to bleed.