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Acon

Bear me to Dictaeus,
and to the steep slopes;
to the river Erymanthus.

I choose spray of dittany,
cyperum, frail of flower,
buds of myrrh,
all-healing herbs,
close pressed in calathes.

For she lies panting,
drawing sharp breath,
broken with harsh sobs.
she, Hyella,
whom no god pities.

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  • May 6
    Edit | Reply

    question

    From guest victoria (contact)
    i don't know who hyella is. i keep searching online and it is not anywhere. can anybody help me? i'm trying to analyze this poem and i;m failing horribly