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Eclogues-Virgil

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"Eclogues" by Virgil is a collection of pastoral poems that explore themes of nature, love, and the simplicity of rural life. These lyrical works reflect the beauty and challenges of the countryside, inviting listeners to immerse themselves in the serene yet complex world of shepherds and their struggles. The enduring appeal of "Eclogues" lies in its ability to evoke timeless emotions and its celebration of the human connection to nature, making it a poignant reminder of the beauty found in simplicity. As contemporary audiences seek solace in the natural world amidst modern chaos, Virgil's verses resonate powerfully, encouraging reflection on the enduring cycles of life and the universal quest for peace.

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Eclogues-Virgil

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The Ultimate Library - Classic BooksEclogues-Virgil. Machine-transcribed; use the interactive transcript above to jump the player to any line.

This is Ashley Akinetti from the almost famous podcast. You ever notice you and your spouse keep saying, we need to get away, but you never actually plan anything. That was us until we did something fun and spontaneous. We went to resortpass.com. There are hundreds of hotel resorts, pools and spots and private beaches that you can enjoy. You can spend the day at a luxury resort, pool, spa, massage, without booking an overnight stay. And listen, I may have only been like 15 minutes from home, but it felt like it was a whole different world. And I'm thinking, this is exactly what I needed. So just go to resortpass.com, choose your resort, choose your day, luxury, resort, day passes, start at just $1,500. Once you post your daycation, people are going to ask where you are. Go to resortpass.com, slash almost famous and use the promo code almost famous to get $20 off when you spend $100. That's code almost famous at resortpass.com slash almost famous.

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Eclog 1. This is a LibraVox recording. All LibraVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit libravox.org. Melaboyus recorded by Dennis Sayers. Tittirus recorded by Cara Schalenberg, www.kray.org, San Diego, California. The Eclogs by Virgil. Eclog 1. You, Tittirus. Nitha-Brod Beach Canopy reclining on the Slender Oat Rehears, your Sylvan Ditties. I, from My Sweet Fields and Homes, familiar bounds, even now, to part. Exiled from home, am I? While you, Tittirus, you sit careless in the shade, and at your call, fair amerylis, bid the woods resound.

Oh, Melaboyus, towards a God vouchsafed this ease to us. For him a God will I deem ever, and from my folds a tender lamb, off with its lifeblood shall his alter stain. His gift it is that, as your eyes may see, my kind may roam at large, and I myself play on my shepherd's pipe, what songs I will. I grudge you not, the boon, but marvel more such wide confusion fills the countryside. See, sick at heart I drive my she-goats on. For this one, oh, my Tittirus, scarce can lead. For mid the hazel thicket here, but now she dropped her new yin to twins on the bare flint. Hope of the flock, and ill I mind me well, which many a time but for my blinded sense, the thunder-stricken oak foretold,

off to from hollow trunk, the Raven's ominous cry. But who this God of yours, come to Tittirus tell? The city, Mela Boyas, they call Rome. I, Simplesen, deemed like this town of ours, where two we shepherds off to our want to drive the younglings of the flock. So two I knew, welps to resemble dogs, and kids their dams. Comparing small with great, but this as far above all other cities rears her head, as Cyprus above plight at Osier towers. And what so potent cause took you to Rome? Freedom, which though belated, cast at length her eyes upon the sluggard, when my beard gann whiterfall beneath the barbers blade cast eyes, I say, and though long tarrying came. Now when from Galatea's yoke released,

I serve but ameryllis, for I will own while Galatea reigned over me. I had no hope of freedom, and no thought to save. Though many a victim from my folds went forth, or rich cheese pressed for the unthankful town, never with laden hands returned I home. I used to wonder, Ameryllis, why you cried to heaven so sadly, and for whom you left the apples hanging on the trees. It was, Tittiris was away. Why Tittiris the very pines, the very water springs, the very vineyards cried aloud for you? What could I do? How else from bonds be freed, or other where find gods so nigh to aid? There, Melabois, I saw that youth to home yearly, for twice six days my altar's smoke. Their instant answer gave he to my suit. Feed as before your kind, boys, rear your bulls.

So and old age, you happy man, your fields will still be yours, and ample for your need. Though with bare stones or spread, the pastures all be choked with rushy-myre. Your use with young by no strange fodder will be tried, nor hurt, through taint contagious of a neighboring flock. Happy old man, who mid-familiar streams and hallowed springs, will court the cooling shade. Here, as of old, your neighbor's bordering hedge, that feasts with willow flower, the hybalebees, shall oft with gentle murmur low to sleep, while the leaf-dresser beneath some tall rock uplifts his song, nor seats their koween's horse, the wood pigeons, which are your heart's delight. This is Ashley Akinetti from the Almost Amos Podcast.

You ever notice you and your spouse keep saying, we need to get away, but you never actually plan anything. That was us until we did something fun and spontaneous. We went to resortpass.com. There are hundreds of hotel resorts, pools and spas and private beaches that you can enjoy. You can spend the day at a luxury resort, pool, spa, massage, without booking an overnight stay. And listen, I may have only been like 15 minutes from home, but it felt like it was a whole different world. And I'm thinking, this is exactly what I needed. So just go to resortpass.com, choose your resort, choose your day, luxury resort day passes, start at just $25. Once you post your daycation, people are gonna ask where you are. Go to resortpass.com, slash almost famous and use the promo code almost famous to get $20 off when you spend $100. That's code almost famous at resortpass.com, slash almost famous. Meet the Red Bull Dragonberry Emergizer.

It's one of the many new drinks out now. Who knew ice cold drinks could be so fire? Try them all, only at McDonald's. McDonald's is putting value back on the menu. Whether you're craving a big mac, McNuggets or sausage egg and cheese McGrittle's, make it a meal and save. Your favorite is now your wallet's favorite too. Extra value meals are back. Sun rises, prices fall, get a sausage McMuffin with egg or sausage egg and cheese McGrittle's small hot coffee and hash frowns for just $6. Price and participation may vary, promotion pricing may be lower than meal pricing. Ba-da-da-da-da-da. Nor doves their moaning in the Elm Tree Top. Sooner shall light stags, therefore feed in air. The seas their fish leave naked on the strand. Germans and Parthians shift their natural bounds and these the ar-ar, those the tiger's drink.

Then from my heart his face and memory fade. But we far hints to burning Libya, some, some to the sithian steps or dice with flood-cretan oxies. Now must when our way or Britain from the whole world sun-dored far. Shall I ever and after time behold my native bounds, see many a harvest hence with ravished eyes, the lowly turf-roofed cut where I was king. These fallows trimmed, so fair, some brutal soldier will possess these fields and alien master. Ah, to what a pass has civil discord brought our hapless folk for such as these then were our furrows sown. Now, milliboyous, graft your pears,

now set your vines in order. Go, once happy flock by she-goats, go, never again shall I stretched in green cave, behold you from afar, hang from the bushy rock. My songs are sung. Never again will you with me to tend on clover flower or bitter willows, browse. Yet here this night you might repose with me on green leaves pillowed, apples ripe have I, soft chestnuts and of curdled milk in ow, and see the farm-roofed chimneys smoke afar, and from the hills the shadows lengthening fall. End of Eclog I. This is a Librefox recording.

All Librefox recordings are in public domain. For more information, auto-volunteer, please visit Librefox.org. Recording by Corey Samuel, the Eclogs by Virgil, Eclog II, Alexis. The shepherd Carradon with love was fired for fair Alexis, his own master's joy. No room for hope had he, yet. Nonetheless, the thick-leaved shadowy-sawing beach-tree grove still would he haunt, and there, alone, as thus towards and hills pour forth his artless strains. Cruel Alexis, he do not my songs. Have you no pity? You'll drive me to my death. Now even the cattle caught the cooling shade, and the green lizard hides him in the thorn. Now for tired mowers, with the fierce heat spent, pounds the stilless her mess of savory herbs,

wild time, and garlic. I, with none beside, save horse-socarlers shrilling through the break, still track your footprints beneath the broiling sun. Better have borne the petulant proud disdain of amorellis, or minalcus wood, albeit he was so dark, and you so fair. Trust not too much to color, beautyous boy, white privets fall. Dark hyacinths are culled. You scorn me, Alexis, who or what I am care not to ask how rich in flocks, or how in snow-white milk are bounding. Yet for me, Roman Sicilian hills, a thousand lambs, summer or winter, still my milk-pales brim. I sing as airst amphian of Cersei sang, what time he went to call his cattle-home on attic aracinthus. Nor am I so ill to look on.

Lately on the beach I saw myself, when winds had still the sea. And if that mirror lie not, would not fear daffness to challenge, though yourself were judge. Ah, where you butt content with me to dwell. Some lowly-cott in the rough fields are home, shoot down the stags, or with green osia wand round up the straggling flock. There you with me in silven strains will learn to rival pan. Pan, first with wax, taught to read, with read, to join, for sheep alike and shepherd pan-half care. Nor with the reeds edge fear you to make rough your dainty lip, such arts as these to learn, what did amintest do? What did he not? A pipe have I, of hemlock stalks compacts in lessening lengths, the moatis is dying gift. Mine once, quotehy, now yours as air to own.

Foolish amintest heard and envied me. I, and two fawns, I risked my neck to find in a steep glen, with coats white-dappled still, from a sheep's udders, suckled twice a day. These, still I keep for you, which their stilless implores me off to let her lead away, and she shall have them, since my gifts you spurn. Come hither, beautyous boy. For you the nymphs bring baskets, see, with lilies brimmed, for you, blocking pale violets and poppyheads. Now, the fair nired, of narcissus flower and fragrant fennel, doth one posee twine with Cassia then, and other scented herbs, blends them and sets the tender hiresynth off with yellow-marigold. I, too, will pick quince's, all silvered oar with horridown. Chess nuts, which Amorellis want to love, and wax and plums with all.

This fruit, no less, shall have its mead of honour. And I will pluck you two ye laurels, and you, ye meadels, near for so your sweet sea-mingle. Carden, you are a bore, nor heads a wit your gift-selectus. No, nor would I oarless yield, should gifts decide the day? A lack, a lack, what misery have I brought upon my head? Loose on the flowers, cirrhoses to my bane, and the wild bore upon my crystal springs, whom do you fly, infatuate, God's air now? And Dada and Paris have made the woods their home. Let Palace keep the towers her hand hath built. Us before all things let the woods delight. The grim-eyed lioness pursues the wolf, the wolf the shegoat, the shegoat herself in wanton sport, the flowering citices,

and Carden Alexis, each led on by their own longing. See, the ox comes home, with plow up-tilted, and the shadows grow to twice their length with the departing sun, yet me love burns, for who can limit love? Ah, Carden, Carden, what hath crazed your wit? Your vine-half-pruned hangs on the leafy elm. Why hast you not to weave what need requires of pliant rush or osia? Scorned by this, elsewhere some new Alexis you will find. End of Eclogue 2. Eclogue 3. This is a Libravox Recording. All Libravox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit libravox.org.

Palayman, recorded by Cara Schalenberg, www.kray.org. San Diego, California. The part of Dmitis, recording by Rosland Will's of Silver Spring, Maryland. The Eclogue's by Virgil. Eclogue number 3. Who owns the flock, Dmitis? Millibales? Nay, they are Egypt sheep, of late by him committed to my care. Oh, every way, unhappy sheep, unhappy flock. While he's still courts nearer, fearing last her choice should follow me. This hirling shepherd here rings hourly twice their udders, from the flock, filching the life-choose, from the lambs their milk. Hold, not so ready with your jeers at men. We know who wants, and in what shrine with you the hegoats look decide the light nymphs laughed. Aiden, I warrant, when they saw me slash micons, young vines and trees with spiteful hook.

Or here by these old beaches, when you broke the bow and arrows of Daemon, for you chaffed when first you saw them given to the boy, cross-grained Manalkus I, and had you not done him some mischief, would have chaffed to death. With thieves so daring, what can masters do? Did I not see you, rogue, in ambush-sligh, for Daemon's gold, while loud slasiska barked? And when I cried, where is he off to now? Gather your flock together, Titteris. You hid behind the sages. Well, was he who might conquer still to keep the goat, which in the piping match, my pipe had won? You may not know it, but the goat was mine. You all pipe him? When had you ever pipe walks welded? In the crossways used you not on grating straw, some miserable tune to mango? Well then, shall we try our skill, each against each in turn? Lest you be loath, I pledge this heifer. Every day she comes twice to the milking-pale and feeds with all two young ones at her utter.

Say you now what you will stake upon the match with me. Not from the flock, Alventure, for at home I have a father and a step-dame harsh. And twice a day, both reckon up the flock and one with all the kids. But I will stake, seeing you are so mad, what you yourself will own more priceless far. Two bitching cups, by the divine art of Alsemedin, wrought and embossed, were on a limber vine, wreath-grounded and by the graver's facile tool, twines over clustering ivy-berry's pale. Two figures, one conon in the midst, he said. And one, how call you him? Who with his wand marked out for all men the whole round of heaven, that they who reap or stood behind the plow might know their several seasons? Nor as yet have I set lipped to them, with lay them by. For me too, wrought the same Alsemedin a pair of cups, and round the handles, wreathed, pliant a canthus, orfius in the midst,

the forest following in his wake, nor yet have I set lipped to them but lay them by, matched with a heifer who would pray to cups. You shall not balk me now, wherever you bid, I shall be with you. Only let us have for auditor, or see, to serve our turn, younger polemmon comes. In singing bouts, I'll see you play the challenger no more. Out then with what you have, I shall not shrink nor budge for any man, only do you, neighbor Palimon, with your whole heart skill, for it is no slight matter, play your part. Say on then, since on the greensward we sit, and now is burgeoning both field and tree, now is the forest green, and now the year at ferrest. Do you first, demitis sing, then you, Menalkus, in alternate strain? Alternate strains are to the muses dear. From joe of the muses began, joe fileth all makes the earth fruitful for my songs have care.

Me feeble's loves, for feeble's his own gifts, bays and sweet-blushing essence, I heap. Gay Galataya throws an apple at me, then highs to the willows hoping to be seen. My dear Amintis comes unasked to me, not dillia to my dogs is better known. Gifts for my love I've found, my eyes have marked where the wood pigeons build their airy nests. Ten golden apples have I sent my boy, all that I could, tomorrow as many more. What words to me and uttered oh how off, Tathgalataya spoke, waft some of them, you wins, I pray you for the gods to hear. It profiteth me not, Amintis mine, that in your very heart you squirm me not, if while you hunt the bore I guard the nets. This is Ashley Akinati from the Almost Amidst podcast. You ever notice you and your spouse keep saying we need to get away, but you never actually plan anything. That was us until we did something fun and spontaneous.

We went to resortpass.com, there are hundreds of hotel resorts, pools and spas and private beaches that you can enjoy. You can spend the day at a luxury resort, pool, spa, massage, without booking an overnight stay. And listen, I may have only been like 15 minutes from home, but it felt like it was a whole different world. And I'm thinking this is exactly what I needed. So just go to resortpass.com, choose your resort, choose your day, luxury, resort, day passes, start at just $25. Once you post your daycation, people are going to ask where you are. Go to resortpass.com slash almost famous and use the promo code almost famous to get $20 off when you spend $100. That's code almost famous at resortpass.com slash almost famous. Toyota's easy choice sales event is on. Whether you're looking for the performance of a camera, the versatility of a RAV4, the efficiency of a Corolla, or all electric driving in the BZ,

there's a Toyota that's just right for you. And with great deals across the lineup, now's the time to find yours. But hurry, these deals won't last long. Toyota's easy choice sales event ends soon. We make it easy. Toyota, let's go places. I am all hers. She wept to SimiGo. And lingering on the word farewell, she said, my beautiful Yollas, farewell you well. Fell as the wolf is to the folded flock, rain to ripe corn, cirrocco to the trees, the wrath of amorellis is to me.

As moisture to the corn to use with young life willow, as I but to the inling kids so sweet amentus and non-ells to me. My muse, although she be but country-bread is loved by polio, oh, pure and maids, pray you a heifer for your reader-feed. Polio himself, too, doff new verses, make, feed you a bull now right to buck with horn, and scatter with his hooves the fine sand. Who loves the polio, may he never come where thee he joys beholding, I for him let honey flow the thorn-bush splices bear. Who hates not bavius, let him also love thy songs, oh, mavius, ae, and therewith all yoke foxes to his car, and he goat smilk. You picking flowers and strawberries that grow so near the ground, fly hens boys, get you gone, there's a cold adder lurking in the grass. For bear my sheep to tread to near the brink,

yom bank is ill to trust to, even now the ram himself see dry his dripping fleece. Back with the she-goats tithurus grazing there so near the river, I, when time shall serve, will take them all and wash them in the pool. Boys, get your sheep together, if the heat as ladded dead for stallus with the milk, vainly the dried up udders shall we reigned. How lean my bull amid the fatening vech, a lack, a lack for herdsmen and for herd, it is the self-same love that wastes us both. These truly, nor is even love the cause, scars have the flesh to keep their bones together, some evil eye my lamkins have bewitched. Say in what climb and you shall be with all my great Apollo, the whole breadth of heaven opens no wider than three else to view. Say in what country grows such flowers as bear the names of kings upon their petals red, and you shall have fair fillists for your own.

Not mine, betwixt such rivals to decide, you well deserve the heifer so does he, with all who either fear the suites of love or taste its bitterness. Now, boys, shut off the sluices, for the fields have drunk their fill. And of Eclog 3 New uses of Sicily, a say we now, are somewhat loftier task. Not all men love coppice or lonely tamarisk, sing we woods, woods worthy of consul at them be.

Now the last age, by Cumai's simple sung, has come and gone, and the majestic role of circling centuries begins a new, justice returns, returns old Saturn's reign, with a new breed of men sent down from heaven. Only do thou, at the boy's birth, in whom the iron shall cease, the golden race arise, befriend him chased Lycina, to sign own Apollo reigns. And in Thy consulate, this glorious age, Apollo, shall begin. And the months enter on their mighty march. Under Thy guidance, what so tracks remain of our old wickedness, once done away, shall free the earth from never ceasing fear. He shall receive the life of gods, and see heroes with gods

co-mingling, and himself be seen of them, and with his father's worth, reign o'er a world at peace. For thee, oh boy, first shall the earth, untilled, poor freely forth her childish gifts, the gadding ivy spray, with fox glove, and Egyptian bean flour mixed, and laughing eyeed a canthus. Of themselves, untended, will the shegoats then bring home, their udders swollen with milk, while flocks afield shall of the monstrous lion have no fear. Thy very cradle shall pour forth for thee, caressing flowers. The serpent too shall die, die shall the treacherous poison plant, and far and wide a Syrian spices spring. But soon, as thou hast skill to read of heroes fame, and of thy father's deeds, and inly learn what virtue is, the plain by slow degrees, with waving corn crops shall to golden grow,

from the wild briar shall hang the blushing grape, and stubborn oaks sweat honeydew. Nathless, yet shall their look within of ancient wrongs and traces, bidding tempt the deep with ships, gird towns with walls, with furrows cleave the earth, therewith a second typhus shall their be, her hero-shraite a second argo bear, new wars too shall arise, and once again some greater killies to some Troy be sent. Then, when the mellowing years have made thee man, no more shall mariner sail, nor pine tree bark plight traffic on the sea. But every land shall all things bear alike. The gleab no more shall feel the harrow's grip, nor vine the hook. The sturdy plowman shall loose yoke from steer, nor wool with varying colors learn to lie. But in the meadows shall the ram himself, now with soft flush of purple, now with tint of yellow

saffron, teaches fleece to shine, while clothed in natural scarlet graze the lambs. Such still, such ages weave ye as ye run, sang to their spindles the consenting fates, by destined is unalterable decree. Assume like greatness, for the time draws nigh, dear child of gods, great progeny of jove. See how it totters, the worlds orbed might, earth and wide ocean, and the vault profound. All see, enraptured of the coming time. Ah, might such length of days to me be given, and breath suffice me to rehearse thy deeds, nor thracian orfius should out-sing me then. Nor Linus, though his mother this and that, his sire should aid, orfius caliope, and Linus fair Apollo.

Nay, though pan, with arcady for judge my claim contest, with arcady for judge great pan himself should own him foiled, and from the field retire. Begin to greet thy mother with a smile, oh baby boy, ten months of weariness for thee she bore, oh baby boy, begin, for him on whom his parents have not smiled, God steam not worthy of their bored or bed. End of Eclogue 4 This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit librevox.org The Eclogue by Virgil. Eclogue 5 Menalkas recorded by Linny, part of mobsis, recording by Anosimum.

Why mobsis being both together mad, you skilled to breathe upon the slender reeds, eye to sing deities, do we not sit down here where the elm trees and the hazel's blend? You are the elder, just for me to buy your choice, Menalkas, whether now we seek your shade that quivers to the changeful breeze or the cave's shelter. Look you how the cave is with the wild vines clusters overlaced. None but amenters on these hills of ours can lie with you. What if he also strive to out sing febus? Do you first begin with mobsis, whether minded to sing ock of philis and her loves, or alchemst rays or to fling towns at codress? Come begin while titteress watches over the grazing kins. Nay then I will say what laid eye carved on a green breech trees rind, playing by turns and mocking down the notes, then afterward bid you amenters match them if he can.

As limber will to pale olive yields as lowly selted nore to rose buds bright, so to my mind amenters yields to you, but hold a while for to the cave we come. For deafness cruelly slain wept all the nymphs, ye hazels bear them witness and ye streams, when she, his mother, clasping in her arms, the hapless body of the sun she bear, to gods and stars and pitying, poured her plant. Then deafness to the cooling streams were none that drove the pasture to oxen, then no beast drank of the river, or would the grass blade touch. Nay the wild rocks and woods then voiced the roar of effric lines mourning for thy death. Deafness to us thou but yoke to beckous car Armenian tygraces, lead on the pump of revelers and with tender foliage wreath the bending spear once.

As to trees the vine is crown of glory as to vines the grape boulds to the herd to fruitful fields the corn, so the one glory of thy own are thou. When the fates took the hens, then palest self and even Apollo left the country alone, where the plump barley grain so oft we sowed, there but wild oats and barren darnal spring, for tender violet and our siss is bright, thistle and prickly thorn a parier their heads. Now O ye shepherds, stew the ground with leaves and o' the fountains draw a shady veil, so deafness to his memory bits be done and rear at tomb and write thereon this verse. I deafness in the woods, from hents in fame and to the stars exalted, garden once of a fair flock, myself more fair than they. So is thy song to me, poet divine, as lumber on the grass to weary limbs,

or just like thirst from some sweet bubbling rill in summer's heat. Nor on the reeds alone, but with thy voice are thou, thrice happy boy, ranked with thy master, second but to him. Yet will I, too, in turn, as best I may, sing thee a song, into the stars of lift thy deafness, deafness to the stars ex'thole, for me too, deafness loved. Then such a boon, what dearer could I deem, the boy himself was worthy to be sung, and many a time had stimmer-con to me, your singing praised. In dazzling sheen with an accustomed eyes, deafness stands wrapped before Olympus Gate, and sees beneath his feet the clouds and stars. Wherefore the woods and fields, pun, shepherds folk, and dry at maidens, thrilled with eager joy, nor wolf with treacherous wild as sails the flock, nor nets the stag, kind deafness loveth peace. The unshore mountains to the stars of toss voices of gladness,

ae the very rocks, the very thickets shout in sing, a god, a goddess heave in alcus, be thou kind, propitious to dine own, low, altars for, twain to thee, deafness, and to Phoebus twain for sacrifice we build. And I for thee, two beakers yearly, a fresh milk of foam, and of rich olive oil, two bowls, will sat, and of the wine-gods bounty above all, if cold before the hearth, or in the shade at harvest-time, to glad the fessel hour, from flasks of a rusean great will pour sweet nectar. Therewithal at my behest shall licty an eigen and the moitus sing, and all busy bails emulate in dance the dance in set-hires. This thy service do shout thou lack never, both when we pay the nymphs our yearly vows, and when with lustro rites the fields we hallow. Long as the wild boar shall love the mountain hides, and fish the streams, while bees on time and crickets feed on dew, thy name, thy praise, thine honor shall endure. Even as tobaccos and to series,

so to thee the swain his yearly vows shall make, and thou thereof, like them, shall quit and scream. This is Ashley Akinati from the almost famous podcast. You ever notice you and your spouse keep saying, we need to get away, but you never actually plan anything. That was us until we did something fun and spontaneous. We went to resortpass.com. There are hundreds of hotel resorts, pools and spas and private beaches that you can enjoy. You can spend the day at a luxury resort, pool, spa, massage, without booking an overnight stay. And listen, I may have only been like 15 minutes from home, but it felt like it was a whole different world. And I'm thinking this is exactly what I needed. So just go to resortpass.com, choose your resort, choose your day, luxury resort day passes start at just $1,500. Once you post your daycation, people are going to ask where you are. Go to resortpass.com slash almost famous and use the promo code almost famous to get $20 off when you spend $100. That's code

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How, how repair the first song so rare for not the whispering south wind on its way so much that lights me no wave smitten beach, no streams that raise down their bolded bets. First this frail hemlocked stalk to you I give, which taught me, Hordeon with love was fired for fairer lexes. A, and this beside, who owns the flock, millibales? But take you this shepherd's crook, which house so hardy begged, antigenous, then worthy to be loved, prevailed not to obtain, with brass you see, and equal nots manelkas, fashioned fair. End of Eclogue 5 This is a Librevox recording. All the bevots recordings are in a public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit librevox.org. Recording by Corey Samuel.

The Eclogs by Virgil. Eclogue 6 to Varus. First, my failure stooped in sportive mood to suracuse and strains, nor blushed within the woods to house her. When I sought to tell of battles and of kings, the Synthean God plucked at mine ear, and warned me. To Tyrus, besiems a shepherd white to feed fat sheep, but sing a slender song. Now Varus, I, for lack there will not, who would lord thy deeds, and treat of dollarous wars, will rather tune to the slim oethen-read, my silven-lay. I sing butters vouchsafed me, yet even this, if, if but one with ravished eyes should read of thee of Varus, shall our tamarisk's and all the woodland ring. Nor can there be a page more dear to Phoebus,

than the page where, foremost writ, the name of Varus stands. Speedy, Perian maids, within a cave young Chromis and in the Silas, chance to see Salenus sleeping, flushed, as was his want, with wine of yesterday. Not far aloof, slipped from his head, the garlands lay, and there, by its one handle, hung a ponderous cup. Approaching, for the old man many a time had bolted them both of a long hoped-for song. Garlands de fetters turned, they bind him fast. Then eagle, fairest of the nired band, eagle came up to the half-rightened boys, came and as now with open eyes he lay, with juice of blood-red mulberries smeared him augh, both brow and temples. Laughing at their guile, and crying, why tie the fetters, lose me boys,

enough for you to think you had the power, now list the songs you wish for, songs for you, another mead for her. Fourth with began. Then might you see the wild things of the wood, with fawns in sportive frolic beat the time, and stubborn oaks their branchy summits bow. Not Phoebus doth the root panesian crag so ravish, nor orpheus so entranced the heights of Rodopi or his maras. For he sang, how through the mighty void, the seeds were driven of earth, air, ocean, and of liquid fire, how all that is from these beginnings grew, and the young world itself took solid shape. Then again its crust to harden, and in the deep, shutnary us off, and mold the forms of things little by little, and how the earth amazed beheld the new sun shining, and the showers fall, as the clouds

soared higher. What time the woods can first arise, and living things to roam scattered among the hills that knew them not. Then sang he of the stones by pyrocast, of Saturn's rain, and Prometheus's theft, and the Caucasian birds, and told with all, night to what fountain by his comrades left, the mariners cried on the highless, till ashore then we echoed, highless, highless, soothed pacify with the love of her white ball, happy if cattle kind had never been. Oh, ill-start made, what frenzy caught thy soul. The daughters too of Proteus filled the fields with their famed lowings, yet no one of them of such unhalowed union air was famed, as with a beast to mate. Though many a time, on her smooth forehead she had sought for horns, and for her neck had feared the galling plow. Oh, ill-start made, thou romost now the hills, while on soft high since he, his snowy

side reposing, under some dark eye-lecks now, choose the pale herbage, or some heifer tracks amid the crowding herd. Now close, e-nymphs, e-nymphs of dict, close the forest glades, if happily their mere chance upon mine eyes, the white balls wandering footprints, him be like following the herd, or by green pasture lured. Some kind may guide to the gourd-hinean stalls. Then, sings he of the maid, so wanderstruck with the apples of the hesperids, and then, with moss-bound bitter bark rings round the forms of five-thons fair sisters, from the ground up towering into poplars. Next he sings of gallus, wandering by permessis's stream, and by a sister of the musers led to the ionian mountains, and how all acquire a fee-bus rose to greet him. How the shepherd-linus, singer of songs divine, brow-bound with flowers and bitter

parsley, spake. These reads the musers give thee, take them thou, asked to the aged bard of Aschra given, wherewith in singing he was want to draw time-rooted ash-trees from the mountain heights. With these, the birth of the grainyan grove be voiced by thee, that of no grove beside Apollo more may boast him. Wherefore speak of Skylar, child of Nesus, who, to is said, her fair-white loins, with barking monsters' gird, vexed the dhalician ships, and in a deep, swift-edding wellpool, with her sea-dogs tore the trembling mariners. Or how he told of the changed limbs of Tarius, what a feast, what gifts to him by Philomel were given. How swift she sought the desert, with what wings hovered in anguish or her ancient home. All that of old,

Eurotus, happy stream, heard as Apollo mused upon the lyre, and bade his laurels learn, Salenus sang. Till, from Olympus, lo that his approach, Vespa advancing, bade the shepherds tell that ale of sheep, and pen them in the fold. End of Eclog 6. Pools, in spas, and private beaches that you can enjoy, you can spend the day at a luxury resort, pool, spa, massage, without booking an overnight stay. And listen, I may have only been like 15

minutes from home, but it felt like it was a whole different world, and I'm thinking this is exactly what I needed. So just go to resortpass.com, choose your resort, choose your day, luxury, resort, day passes start at just $25. Once you post your daycation, people are going to ask where you are. Go to resortpass.com slash almost famous and use the promo code almost famous to get $20 off when you spend $100. That's code almost famous at resortpass.com slash almost famous. Kitchen and bathroom professionals know what goes behind the tile matters. That's why trade pros trust fiber cement, party backer board to keep tile firmly in place, resist cracking, and help block moisture. Chosen in over 40 million kitchens and bathrooms, party backer board, what the best build on. Shop now at participating home depot, lows, and floor into core stores. For more information visit jameshardy.com slashhardybacker. At CLEO7, this is a leap of box recording.

All Librevox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librevox.org. Melovoius read by Dennis Sayers. Theresis recorded by Anosimum. The Ecloges by Virgil. Eclog7. Daphnis, Benethe, rustling Ilex tree, had sat him down. Theresis and Corriden had gathered in the flock. Theresis, the sheep, and Corriden, the she-goats swollen with milk. Both in the flower of age, archadians both, ready to sing and, in like-strain, reply. Hither had strayed. While from the frost I fend my tender-murtles, the he-goat himself, Lord of the flock. When Daphnis I aspire. Soon he saw me. Hither haste, he cried. Oh, Melovoius,

goat and kids are safe, and if you have an idle hour to spare, rest here beneath the shade. Hither the steers will through the meadows, of their own free will, untended come to drink. Here, Melovoius, hath with tender rushes, rimmed his verdant banks, and from Jan's sacred oak, with busy hum the bees are swarming. What was I to do? No philis or alsepe left at home had I, to shelter my new weamed lambs, and no slight matter was a singing-about to its Karidan and Thersus. How so air, I let my business wait upon their sport. So they began to sing, voice answering voice, in strains alternate. For alternate strains, the muses then were minded to recall. First Karidan, then Thersus in reply.

My beefy lambs, who are my heart delight, grant me as doath my caudras, so to sing next to a polo he, or if to this we may not all attain my tuneful pie here on the sacred pie in shawl silent hand. Arcadian shepherds, wreath with ivy spray your budding poet, so that coedras burst with envy. If he prays beyond my dew, then bind my brow with fox glove, lest his tongue with evil omen belight the coming barred. This bristling boars had dealing in maid, to thee, with branching antlers of a sprightly stag, young mighten offers. If his lip but hold, full-length in polished marble, ankle-bound with purple-busting shawl thy statues stand. A bowl of milk, pre-epis, and his cakes yeely, it is enough for thee to claim, thou art the garden of a poor man's plot, wrought for a while in marble, if the flock at

lambing time be filled, stand there in gold. Daughter of Nareeus Galatiyamain, sweeter than Hyblothine, more white than swans, fairer than ivy pale, soon as the steers shawl from their pasture to the stalls repair, if art forequired and thou caresst. Come. Now may I see more bitter to your taste than herbsardinian, rougher than the broom, more worthless than strewn seaweed, if today hath not a year outlast it. Five for shame, go home my cattle, from your grazing go. You mustest strings and grass more soft than sleep, and are you green with thin shade sheltering you, ward off the solstice from my flock, for now comes on the burning summer, now the buds upon the limber vine should ginned to swell. Here is a hearth and resinous logs, here fire unstinted, and doors black with ceaseless smoke. Here heat we bore his icy breath as much as the wolf

heats the number of the flock, or furious rivers there restraining banks. The juniper's and prickly chestnuts stand, and if each tree lies true in their several fruits, now the whole world smiling, but if fair elxes from these hillslopes should away, even the rivers you would see run dry. The field is parched, the grass blades thirst to death in the faint air. Leiber hath grudged the hills his vines over shadowing. Should my fillis come, green will be all the grove, and Jupiter descend in flots of fertilising rain. The papa doothals sit his whole most here, the vine yacchus fibis his own bays, and venus fear the mortal, therewithal fillis dooth hazelslove, and while she loves, mortal nor bay the hazel shallot vie. Ash in the forest is most beautiful, pining the garden, popular by the stream, fur on the mountain hide, but if more oft does come to me, fair elicit us, to the both forest ash

and garden pine should bow. These I remember, and how thyrsistro for victory, in vain, from that time forth is Karaden still, Karaden with us. End of Eklog 7 Eklog 8 This is a lipofox recording. All lipofox recordings are in the puppet domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit librivox.org. Polio recorded by Anasimmon. Of Daemon and Alphysibis now, those shepherd singers, at whose rival strains, the heifer wandering forgot to graze, the links stood awestruck, and the flowing streams

unwanted loiterers stayed their course to hear. How Daemon and Alphysibis sang their pastoral ditties, will I tell the tale. Now, whether brought to Mavas rocky banks thou now art passing, or dost skirt the shore of the Elyrian main, will ever dawn that day when I die deeds may celebrate, ever that day when through the whole wide world I may renown diverse, that ver'z alone of Sophocleian buskin worthy found, with thee began to thee shall end the strain. Take thou these songs that owe their birth to thee, and they in a round eye temples to let creep this ivy-chaplet twix the conquering bays. Scars at night's chilly shade for sick the sky, what time to nibbling sheep the dewy grass taste sweetest, when on a smooth shepherd's staff of olive-leaning, Daemon thus began. Rise Lucifer, and heralding the light bring in the

genial day, while I make mone, fooled by vain passion for a faithless bride, for nisse, and with this my dying breath call on the gods, though little it bested, the gods who heard her vows and he did not. Begin my flute with me, Minalian Lays, ever has meaniless his murmuring groves and whispering pines, and ever hears the songs of love-lawned shepherds, and of pan, who first brooked not the tuneful reed should idle thy. Begin my flute with me, Minalian Lays, nisse to mobs us given, what may not then we lovers look for, soon shall we see mate griffins with meres, and in the coming age shy deer and hounds together come to drink. Begin my flute with me, Minalian Lays, now mobs us cut new torches for they bring your bride along,

now bridegroom scatter nuts, for saking eater mounts the evening star. Begin my flute with me, Minalian Lays, oh worthy of thy mate, while all men else thou scornest, and with lo-zing dust behold my shepherd's pipe, my goats, my shaggy brow, and untrimmed beard, nor deemst that any god for mortal doings hath regard or care. Begin my flute with me, Minalian Lays, once with your mother in our orchard garth, a little maid I saw you, I your guide, plucking the dewy apples. My twelfth year I scarce had entered, and could barely reach the brittle boughs. I looked, and I was lost, a sudden frenzy swept my wits away.

Begin my flute with me, Minalian Lays, now know I what lo-vies, mid-savage rocks, tomorros or ro-dopey brought forth the boy, or garamantes, in earth's utmost bounds, no kin of ours, nor of our blood begot. Begin my flute with me, Minalian Lays, fierce love it was, once steeled in mother's heart, with her own offspring's blood her hands to embrue. This is Ashley Akinady from the Almost Amos Podcast. You ever notice you and your spouse keep saying, we need to get away, but you never actually plan anything. That was us until we did something fun and spontaneous. We went to ResortPass.com, there are hundreds of hotel resorts, pools and spots and private beaches that you can enjoy. You can spend the day at a luxury resort, pool, spa, massage without booking an overnight stay.

And listen, I may have only been like 15 minutes from home, but it felt like it was a whole different world. And I'm thinking this is exactly what I needed. So just go to ResortPass.com, choose your resort, choose your day, luxury resort day passes start at just $25. Once you post your daycation, people are going to ask where you are. Go to ResortPass.com slash Almost Famous and use the promo code Almost Famous to get $20 off when you spend $100. That's code Almost Famous at ResortPass.com slash Almost Famous. Not-for-improfessionals know what goes behind the tile matters. That's why trade pros trust fiber cement, party backer board to keep tile firmly in place, resist cracking and held block moisture. Chosen in over 40 million kitchens and bathrooms, party backer board, what the best build on. Shop now at participating Home Depot, Lowe's and floor into core stores. For more information, visit JamesHearty.com slash Hearty Backer.

Mother Thou Too Worked Cruel Say Worked Thou More Cruel Mother Or More Ruceless He Ruceless The Boy Thou Mother Cruel Too. Begin my flute with me, Menalian Lays. Now let the wolf turn tail and fly the sheep, tough oaks bear golden apples. All the trees bloom with narcissus flower. The tamarisk sweat with rich amber and the screech owl vie in singing with the swan. Let titterus be orfius, orfius in the forest glade, I rion mid his dolphins on the deep. Begin my flute with me, Menalian Lays. Ye be the whole earth to mid ocean turned. Fair well you woodlands,

I from the tall peak of yon aerial rock will head long plunge into the billows. This my latest gift from dying lips bequeathed the seas I'll keep. Seas now my flute, now seas Menalian Lays. Thus Damon, but do ye, Perian maids, we cannot all do all things, tell me how alfisibius to his strain replied. Bring water and a soft wolf fillet bind these alters round about. And to burn thereon rich vervein and male-fankin sense, then I may strive with magic spells to turn his dream I lever sander senses, wear into their lack of nothing save the power of song. Draw from the town my songs, draw daffness home.

Songs can this very moon draw down from heaven, Circe, with singing change from human form, the comrades of Ulysses, and by song is the cold meadowsnake a sander burst. Draw from the town my songs, draw daffness home. These triple threads of threefold colour first I twine about thee, and three times with all around these alters do thine image bear, uneven numbers of the gods delight. Draw from the town my songs, draw daffness home. Now I'm a realist, plie and triple knots the threefold colours, plie them vast, and say this is the chain of enus that I plie. Draw from the town my songs, draw daffness home. As by the kindling of the self-same fire harder this clay, this wax the softer grows, so by my love my daffness. Sprinkle meal and with betouement burn the brittle bays,

me daffness with this cruelty daff burn, I too melt cruel daffness burn this bay. Draw from the town my songs, draw daffness home. As one some heifer seeking for her stearth of woodland and deep grove, sinks, wearyed, out on the green sedge beside the stream, love-loan, no marks the gathering night that calls her home, as pines that heifer, with such love as hers my daffness pine, and I not care to heal. Draw from the town my songs, draw daffness home. These relics once, dear pledges of himself, the traitor left me, which, are earth, to thee here on this very threshold I commit, pledges that bind him to redeem the debt. Draw from the town my songs draw daffness home.

These herbs of bane to me did merit-skive. In Pontus called, were baneful herbs abound. With these full-off, t'v' I seen more as change to a wolf's form, and hide him in the woods, oft some in spirit from the tombs recess, and to new fields transport the standing corn. Draw from the town my songs draw daffness home. Take ashes, I'm a relics. Fetch them forth, and draw your head into the running-brook fling them, nor look behind, with these will upon the heart of daffness make essay. Nothing for gods, nothing for songs cares he. Draw from the town my songs draw daffness home. Look, look-eye, the very embers of themselves of cut the altar with a flickering flame, while I delay to fetch them. May the sign prove lucky, something it must mean for sure, and highlights on the threshold, gins to bark, may we believe it,

or our lovers still by their own fancy's fooled. Give all my songs, daffness is coming from the town, give all. End of at clock eight. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Eclogs by Virtual. Eclog 9. Say with her more, Aris, make you for the town, or on what Aaron bent. All is said is, we have lived to see what never yet we feared, an interloper own our little farm, and say, be off your former husband-man, these fields are mine. Now, cowed and out of heart, since fortune turns the whole world upside down,

we are taking him, and luck go with the same. These kids you see. But surely I'd heard, that were the hills first draw from off the plane, and the high ridge with gentle slope to sins, down to the brookside and the broken crests of yonder veteran beaches. All the land was by the songs of your mental cause saved. I heard it you had, and so the rumor ran, but mid the clash of arms, my listidus, are songs avail no more than, as it is said, doves of Dadona when an eagle comes. Nay had I not, from hollow, illxible, worn by a raven on the left, cut short the rising feud, nor I, your moiries here. No, Norman Nalkas, we're alive today. A lack could any of sofowl cry and be guilty. Ah, how nearly thyself-reft was the solace that we had in the mental cause,

who then of the nymphs had sung, or who with flowering her up to stream the ground, and over the fountains drawn on leafy veil, who sung the stave I filts from you that day to amrillis-wending our heart's joy. While I am gone disbut a little way, feed, Titeris, my goats, and having fed, drive to the drinking pool, and as you drive be where he goeth, with his horn he butts. Hey, orto-varras that have finished lay, varras, by name, so still are Montua-live, Montua-to-poor-cremona, all-to-neer, shall singing swans bear upward to the stars. So may your swarms, seer ne'en-yutri shun, your kind with citises their utter swell, begin if ought you have. The muses made me too a singer, I too have sung. The swains call me a poet, but I believe them not, for not of mine, or worthy various yet,

or synodime, but account myself a cackling goose among melodious swans. To us in my thought to do so, lest it is. Even now was I revolve incisantly, if this I could recall, no paltry song. Come, Galatia, what pleasure is it to play amid the waves? Here goes the spring, here earth beside this dream spores forth a thousand flowers. Here the white popular bends above the cave, and the lifeline weaves shadowy covered. Come, leave the mad waves to beat upon the shore. What of the strain I heard you singing once on a clear night alone? The notes I still remember could I but recall the words. Why, Daphnis, upward gazing, do you mark the ancient horizons of the signs? For look where Dionian Caesar's star comes forth in heaven, to gladden all the fields with corn, and to the grave upon the sunny slopes her color bring.

Now the pears, so shall your children's children pluck their fruit. Time carries all things, even our wits away. Often as a boy I sang the sun to rest, but all those songs are from my memory fled, and even his voice is failing more is now. The wolves hide more is first, but at your wish, Menalkas will repeat them often, O. Your pleas but linger out my heart's desire. Now all the deep is in desilence hushed, and all the murmuring breezes sunk to sleep. We are halfway there, for Bionore's tomb begins to show. Here, Moeris, where the himes are lopping the thick leafage, let us sing. Set down the kids, yet shall we reach the town. Or if we fear the night may gather rain, here we arrive, then singing let us go, our way to lighten. And now we may thus go singing, I will case you of this load.

Seize boy, and get we to the work in hand, we shall sing better when himself is come. End of Echlobe 9. This is a Librevox recording. All Librevox recordings are in a public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit librevox.org. Recording by Corey Samuel, the Echlox by Virgil, Echlox 10. Gallus. This now, the very latest of my toils, vouch save me, Arithusa. Needs must icing a brief song to Gallus? Brief. But yet such as Lycoris's self may fitly read. Who would not sing for Gallus? So, when thou beneath Sicanian billows glidered on,

may Doris blend no bitter wave with thine. Begin. The love of Gallus be our theme, and the shrewd pangs he suffered. While, hard by, the flat-nosed shegotes brows the tender brush. We sing not to deaf ears. No word of ours but the woods echo it. What groves or lawns held you, ye dry admaidens, when for love, lovel unworthy of a loss so dear, gallus lay dying. For neither did the slopes of Pindus or Parnassus stay you then. No. Noreonian Aganip. Him, even the laurels and the tamarisk's wept. For him, outstretched beneath a lonely rock, wept pine-clad minorless, and the flinty crags of cold lyceus. The sheep twos stood around. Of us they feel no shame, poet divine. Nor if the flock be thou ashamed, even fair adonis by the rivers fed his sheep,

came shepherd too, and swine-heard footing slow, and from the winter-acorns dripping wet, manalkus. All, with one accord exclaim, from whence this love of thine, Apollo came. Gallus, at mad, he cried. Vibuzum's care and nothing love is following. There with all Silvanus came, with rural honours crowned, the flowering fennels and tall lily shook before him. Yeh, and our own eyes beheld Pann, God of Arcadia, with blood-red juice of the elderberry, and with vermillion dyed. Will't ever make an end, Quothi, behold, love wrecks not out of it. His heart no more with tears is sated, than with streams the grass, bees with a citicis, or goats with leaves. Yet will ye sing Arcadia's, of my woes upon your mountains,

sadly he replied. Arcadia's that alone have skilled a sing. Oh, then how softly would my ash's rest? If, of my love, one day your flutes should tell. And would that I, of your own fellowship, or dresser of the ripening grape had been, or guardian of the flock, for surely then, let Phyllis, or Amintus, or who else, bewitch me? What if Swatamintus be? Dark is the violet, dark the higher synth among the willows, beneath the limber vine. Reclining would my love have lain with me. Phyllis plucked garlands, or Amintus sung. Here are cool springs, soft mead and grove like aress. Here might our lives with time have worn away. But me, mad love of the stern war-god holds, armed amid weapons and opposing foes, whilst thou. Ah, might I butth believe it not, alone without me,

and from home afar, looks upon alpine snows and frozen rine. Ah, may the frost not hurt thee, may the sharp and jagged ice not wound thy tender feet. I will depart, retune the songs I framed in verse-chalcidian to the oetan-read of the Sicilian swan, resolved am I in the woods, rather, with wild beasts to couch, and bear my doom, and character my love, upon the tender tree-trunks, they will grow, and you, my love, grow with them. And meanwhile, I, with the nymphs, will haunt Mount Minerless, or hunt the keen wild boar. No frost so cold, but I will hem with hounds thy forest glades, Parneathius. Even now, me things, I range o'er rocks through echoing groves, and joy to launch Sidonian arrows from a pathian bow, as if my madness could find healing thus, all that

God's soften at a mortal's grief. Now, neither hammer-dryards, no nor songs delight me more. You woods, away with you! No pangs of ours can change him, not though we in the mid-frost should drink of hebrus's stream, and in wet winter's face Sidonian snows. Or, when the bark of the tall Elm tree-bowl of drought is dying, should, undercancers sign, in Ethiopian deserts drive our flocks. Love conquers all things, yield we too to love. These songs, period maids, shall it suffice your poet to have sung, the while he sat, and of slim malo wove a basket fine. To Galus, you will magnify their worth. Galus, for whom my love grows hour by hour, as the green-older shoots an early spring,

come, let us rise, the shade is want to be baneful to singers, baneful is the shade cast by the juniper, cropsick and two in shade. Now, homeward, having fed your fill, Eve's star is rising, go, my shegoats, go. End of Eclog 10 End of the Eclogs by Virgil End of the Eclogs by Virgil End of the Eclogs by Virgil

End of the Eclogs by Virgil End of the Eclogs by Virgil

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