Eclogue

1    I|     bushy rock; my songs are sung;~Never again will you, with
2   IV|    last age by Cumae’s Sibyl sung~Has come and gone, and the
3    V|     himself~Was worthy to be sung, and many a time~Hath Stimichon
4   IX|   Who then of the Nymphs had sung,~Or who with flowering herbs
5   IX|    drawn a leafy veil? -~Who sung the stave I filched from
6   IX|     too a singer; I too have sung; the swains~Call me a poet,
7    X| plucked garlands, or Amyntas sung.~Here are cool springs,
8    X|    suffice~Your poet to have sung, the while he sat,~And of