Maxioms by Thomas Gray
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
read more
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike th' inevitable hour,
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Chill penury repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.
Chill penury repress'd their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.
When iron scourge, and tort'ring hour
The bad affright, afflict the best.
When iron scourge, and tort'ring hour
The bad affright, afflict the best.
Scatter plenty o'er a smiling land.
Scatter plenty o'er a smiling land.
Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune,
He had not the method of making a fortune.
Too poor for a bribe, and too proud to importune,
He had not the method of making a fortune.
