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"Dear friends, no need for stealth: here's a young weaver singing a pretty song to set the air atingle on these lawns and paven courts. Goddess, or lady, Shall we great her?" pg 773 557-560
One thrones she seated them, and lounging chairs, while she prepared a meal of cheese and barley and amber honey mixed with Pramnian wine, adding her own vile pinch, to make them lose desire or thought of our dear fatherland. Scarce had they drunk when she flew after them with her long stick and shut them in a pigsty- pg 774 565-571
"When we were frantic questions him, at last we heard the tale: our friends were gone..." pg 744 583-584
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