from Ovid: Metamorphoses, Book X

“There was a hill…turfed with fresh blades of grass: shade was absent there: but when [Orpheus} the poet…sounded the strings ofhis lyre, shade gathered there. The…oak-tree came… the soft lime-tree… the hazel…

“Such was the grove of trees the poet gathered round him, and he sat in the midst of a crowd, of animals and birds. When he had tried a few chords, stroking the lyre with his thumb… he raised his voice to sing.”

https://i0.wp.com/www.exoticindiaart.com/artimages/orpheus_sm.jpg

https://i1.wp.com/www.duversity.org/Orpheus-Playing.jpg

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