"She gleans her silvan trophies; down the wold She hears the sobbing of the stags that flee Mixed with the music of the hunting roll'd, But her delight is all in archery, And naught of ruth and pity wotteth she More than her hounds that follow on the flight; The goddess draws a golden bow of might And thick she rains the gentle shafts that slay.
"A Book of Myths"
Jean Lang
There you with me In silvan strains will learn to rival Pan.
"The Bucolics and Eclogues"
Virgil
His peculiarly shy and, as it were, silvan nature, made it physically impossible for him to live in crowded streets and push his way through throngs of indifferent men.
"Robert F. Murray his poems with a memoir by Andrew Lang"
Robert F. Murray