Eclogue

1    I|       ever, and from my folds a tender lamb~Oft with its life-blood
2    1|       Blends them, and sets the tender hyacinth off~With yellow
3    V|     pomp~Of revellers, and with tender foliage wreathe~The bending
4    V|       barren darnel spring;~For tender violet and narcissus bright~
5  VII|        from the frost I fend~My tender myrtles, the he-goat himself,~
6  VII|          Here Mincius hath~With tender rushes rimmed his verdant
7    X| flat-nosed she-goats browse the tender brush.~We sing not to deaf
8    X|        jagged ice not wound thy tender feet!~I will depart, re-tune
9    X|      character my love~Upon the tender tree-trunks: they will grow,~