Wreath - 1830 - Sappho Theocritus Bion Moschus in Prose
For thou didst not
sing like the Cyclops—from him indeed the beautiful
Galatea fled—but she gazed sweetly on thee from the
salt water: and now forgetful of the sea, she sits on the
desert sands, and still feeds thy herds.
sing like the Cyclops—from him indeed the beautiful
Galatea fled—but she gazed sweetly on thee from the
salt water: and now forgetful of the sea, she sits on the
desert sands, and still feeds thy herds.
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