Eclogue

1    1| laurels, and you, ye myrtles, near,~For so your sweets ye mingle.
2  III|     strawberries that grow~So near the ground, fly hence, boys,
3  III|        my sheep, to tread too near the brink;~Yon bank is ill
4  III|     Tityrus, grazing there~So near the river! I, when time
5   IX|       to poor Cremona all too near -~Shall singing swans bear