Eclogue

1    I| flint,~Hope of the flock— an ill, I mind me well,~Which many
2    1|      Aracynthus. Nor am I~So ill to look on: lately on the
3  III|  near the brink;~Yon bank is ill to trust to; even now~The
4   IX|     down,~We are taking him— ill luck go with the same!-’~
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