Catullus - Ellis - Poems and Fragments
Tityrus, happilie then lyste tumbling under a beech tree,
All in a fine oate pipe these sweete songs lustilie c haunting :
We, poore soules goe to wracke, and from these coastes be remoued,
And fro our pastures swecte : thou Tityr, at ease in a shade plott
Makst thicke groues to resound with songes of brave Amarillis.
All in a fine oate pipe these sweete songs lustilie c haunting :
We, poore soules goe to wracke, and from these coastes be remoued,
And fro our pastures swecte : thou Tityr, at ease in a shade plott
Makst thicke groues to resound with songes of brave Amarillis.
