He, so
dear to the herds, no longer sings-no longer reclining
beneath the solitary oaks, he pours the dulcet lay, but
in Pluto's realms he sings a song.
dear to the herds, no longer sings-no longer reclining
beneath the solitary oaks, he pours the dulcet lay, but
in Pluto's realms he sings a song.
Wreath - 1830 - Sappho Theocritus Bion Moschus in Prose
