Book, Chapter

 1    2,  42|      Bides, bakers' pastries, birds, cooks and bakers! More
 2    2,  50|     even if he is crazy about birds. I've had to kill three
 3    2,  73|    with fish and all kinds of birds, had been served, until
 4    2,  78|      a short time before made birds and fish out of a hog, cut
 5    4, 123|     has now been despoiled~Of birds, its littoral silent, no
 6    4, 124|     the twittering singing~Of birds in the Springtime. But chaos,
 7    5, 140|        Twas thus, I ween, the birds of Stymphalus~To heaven
 8    5, 142| streets, and the songs of the birds, and the bark~Of vigilant
 9    5, 154|       At the Roman tables the birds, the dormice, or the fish,
10    6     |   with shewolves, neither the birds that fly through the air,