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.MELIBOEUSI used to wonder, Amaryllis, whyyou cried to heaven so sadly, and for whomyou left the apples hanging on the trees;'twas Tityrus was away. Why, Tityrus,the very pines, the very water-springs,the very vineyards, cried aloud for you.TITYRUSWhat could I do? how else from bonds be freed,or otherwhere find gods so nigh to aid?There, Meliboeus, I saw that youth to whomyearly for twice six days my altars smoke.There instant answer gave he to my suit,“Feed, as before, your kine, boys, rear your bulls.”MELIBOEUSSo in old age, you happy man, your fieldswill still be yours, and ample for your need!Though, with bare stones o'erspread, the pastures allbe choked with rushy mire, your ewes with young