Eclogue

 1    I|         from my folds a tender lamb~Oft with its life-blood shall
 2    I|      thunder-stricken oak foretold, oft too~From hollow trunk the
 3    I|          ours,~Whereto we shepherds oft are wont to drive~The younglings
 4    I| willow-flower the Hybla bees,~Shall oft with gentle murmur lull
 5    1|         which Thestilis~Implores me oft to let her lead away;~And
 6  III|            to me, and uttered O how oft,~Hath Galatea spoke! waft
 7    V|           the plump barley-grain so oft we sowed,~There but wild
 8  VII|        mountain-height; but if more oft~Thou’ldst come to me, fair
 9 VIII|             abound.~With these full oft have I seen Moeris change~
10 VIII|          and hide him in the woods,~Oft summon spirits from the
11   IX|        things, even our wits, away.~Oft, as a boy, I sang the sun
12   IX|           Menalcas will repeat them oft enow.~Lycidas.~Your pleas