huc ades, o Galatea; quis est nam ludus in undis? hic ver purpureum, varios hic flumina circum fundit humus flores, hic candida populus antro imminet et lentae texunt umbracula vites: huc ades; insani feriant sine litora fluctus.
Come to me, Galatea! What pleasure lives in waves? Here is rosy spring; here, by the streams, Earth scatters her flowers of a thousand hues; here the white poplar bends over the cave, and the clinging vines weave shady bowers. Come to me; leave the wild waves to lash the shore.
final_alignments\Virgil_Eclogues.json