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Fast flies meanwhile the irreparable hour,
As point to point our charmed round we trace.
Enough of herds. This second task remains,
The wool-clad flocks and shaggy goats to treat.
Here lies a labour; hence for glory look,
Brave husbandmen. Nor doubtfully know
How hard it is for words to triumph here,
And shed their lustre on a theme so slight:
But I am caught by ravishing desire
Above the lone Parnassian steep; I love
To walk the heights, from whence no earlier track
Slopes gently downward to Castalia's spring.
Now, awful Pales, strike a louder tone.

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  • Commentary references to this page (3):
    • John Conington, Commentary on Vergil's Aeneid, Volume 1, 2.61
    • John Conington, Commentary on Vergil's Aeneid, Volume 1, 4.529
    • John Conington, Commentary on Vergil's Aeneid, Volume 2, 9.246
  • Cross-references in general dictionaries to this page (2):
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