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The Bitter Dregs Of Fortune's Cup To Drain.
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The bitter dregs of fortune's cup to drain.
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744)
-- The Iliad of Homer, Book xxii, Line 85
Related:
Sinks my sad soul with sorrow to the grave.
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- The Iliad of Homer, Book xxii, Line 543...
Unwept, unhonour'd, uninterr'd he lies!
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- The Iliad of Homer, Book xxii, Line 484...
Achilles absent was Achilles still.
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- The Iliad of Homer, Book xxii, Line 418...
Forever honour'd, and forever mourn'd.
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- The Iliad of Homer, Book xxii, Line 422...
No season now for calm familiar talk.
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- The Iliad of Homer, Book xxii, Line 169...
This, this is misery! the last, the worst That man can feel.
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- The Iliad of Homer, Book xxii, Line 106...
Who dies in youth and vigour, dies the best.
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- The Iliad of Homer, Book xxii, Line 100...
Grief tears his heart, and drives him to and fro In all the raging impotence of woe.
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- The Iliad of Homer, Book xxii, Line 526...
Jove lifts the golden balances that show The fates of mortal men, and things below.
-- Alexander Pope (1688-1744) -- The Iliad of Homer, Book xxii, Line 271...