Love is a child and naked; he has years that know no meanness, and he has no clothes, so that he is open in his ways. - Ovid

He finds Eurydice in blessed fields. His yearning arms embrace her. They stroll, now side by side, now as he follows, now as he leads. And Orpheus in safety can turn and look at his Eurydice.

Nam genus et proavos et quae non fecimus ipsi,
Vix ea nostra voco.

My mind leads me to speak now of forms changed into new bodies: O gods above, inspire this undertaking (which you’ve changed as well) and guide my poem in its epic sweep from the world’s beginning to the present day.