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I really enjoyed this. I could have lived without the encomia dedicated to Ptolemy and the Dioscuri, perhaps, but the early singing contests and the Cyclops� serenade and the chatty exchange of the women at the festival and the idyll of the sorceress and the last two passionate poems addressed to anonymous young lovers by the poet in old age were beyond wonderful. Especially the delicacy of the details, the scent of rennet, the type of gauzy garments the little distaff makes possible, the names of places and plants particularly. I kind of liked the Idylls better than Virgil’s Eclogues, in fact. I need to go back and compare.