The Corydon Entry.
This is wierd. Remember that horrid second Eclogue? The rest of the Eclogues are great, but Vergil has to write a really Theocritan one first (in composition order) which is so uncomfortably homoerotic. What does our Byron say?
But Virgil's songs are pure, except that horrid one
Beginning with "Formosum Pastor Corydon"
Well, for the past two weeks, I've been rereading formosum pastor Corydon and feeling intense existential sympathy with the aging, rustic shepherd, who pines with bitterly unrequitted passion for his urban love-interest, but has nothing which he can truly call his own which he might offer to the paidika. It's just funny. I always hated this poem of Vergil's and never thought that, of all his works, I would identify, in the end, most strongly with this.
N.B.: I may revise this entry from time to time if circumstances or rereadings warrant.