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94 High o'er the Thracian hills rose the voice of the shepherdess, wailing.

"Ai! for the fleecy flocks—the meek-nosed, the passionless faces;

Ai! for the tallow-scented, the straight-tailed, the high-stepping ;

Ai! for the timid glance, which is that which the rustic, sagacious,

Applies to him who loves but may not declare his passion!"

Her then Zeus answered slow: "O! daughter of song and sorrow—

Hapless tender of sheep—arise from thy long lamentation.

Since thou canst not trust fate, nor behave as becomes a Greek maiden,

Look and behold thy sheep."—And lo! they returned to her tailless!