“There, she poured out her words of grief, tearfully, in faint tones, in harmony with sadness, just as the swan sings once, in dying, its own funeral song.”
Ovid in “The Story of Picus and Canens” (Metamorphoses, book XIV:320–396)
free the land. free the people
“There, she poured out her words of grief, tearfully, in faint tones, in harmony with sadness, just as the swan sings once, in dying, its own funeral song.”
Ovid in “The Story of Picus and Canens” (Metamorphoses, book XIV:320–396)
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