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Plays the many-mouthed pipe,
Love himself the golden-tressed,
“Οτ' εγω νεοις ομιλBν.
When a set of youths I see,
Youth itself returns to me.
Then, ah then, my old age springs
Able still to warble too,
Able still to drink down sadness,
And display a graceful madness.
THE SEAT UNDER THE TREE.
Παρα την σκιην Βαθυλλε.
Here's the place to seat us, love!
Listen, too! It is a rill,
Telling us it's gentle will.