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Alciato's Book of EmblemsEmblem 194 Love of one's children Before springtime, the white ring-dove makes her nest in the northern cold, and sits on the eggs she laid too soon. And, so that her young can nestle more softly, she plucks her own wings. Now, naked herself, she grows faint in the winter chill. Aren't you ashamed, O Colchian, and you, monstrous Procne, when a bird comes to die out of love for her young?
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