Maxioms by Robert Pollok
Far from gay cities and the ways of men.
Far from gay cities and the ways of men.
But when to mischief mortals bend their will,
How soon they find fit instruments of ill.
But when to mischief mortals bend their will,
How soon they find fit instruments of ill.
'Tis all in vain to keep a constant pother
About one vice and fall into another.
'Tis all in vain to keep a constant pother
About one vice and fall into another.
Friend, for your epitaph I'm grieved,
Where still so much is said;
One half will never be read more
Friend, for your epitaph I'm grieved,
Where still so much is said;
One half will never be believed,
The other never read.
'Twas slander filled her mouth with lying words;
Slander, the foulest whelp of Sin.
'Twas slander filled her mouth with lying words;
Slander, the foulest whelp of Sin.
