The Twenty-Fifth Canto is almost entirely epistolary in nature. It opens with, frankly, one of those boring little re-enactments of historical logistical discussions, and then…

While giving lip service to the epistolary form, it becomes infected by stream of consciousness and half formed statements and thoughts – which are often gorgeous in their execution.

Lay there, the long soft grass,
                    and the flute lay there by her thigh,
Sulpicia, the fauns, twig-strong,
                                                gathered about her;
The fluid, over grass,
Zephyrus, passing through her,
                                                  ” deus nec laedit amantea “