|
The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from Bucolics by Virgil: And untrimmed beard, nor deem'st that any god
For mortal doings hath regard or care.
"Begin, my flute, with me Maenalian 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 Maenalian lays.
Now know I what Love is: 'mid savage rocks
|