Bucolic III

Gentle, the fields, slowly, eating the bones,/Blood drinking, men upon them, new, compete,/Goat bone, sheep blood too, gently now and slow...

Bucolic II

the wand of sage Wergilius/turns many a magic trick...

Bucolic I

Tityrus lounges in the shade,/Bees lullaby the sleepy glade,/The reed sings soft, soft as the grass—/Then Meliboeus comes to pass...