FROM the forests and highlands

We come we come；



From the river-girt islands



Where loud waves are dumb



Listening to my sweet pipings.



The wind in the reeds and the rushes



The bees on the bells of thyme



The birds on the myrtle bushes



The cicale above in the lime



And the lizards below in the grass



Were as silent as ever old Tmolus was



Listening to my sweet pipings.



Liquid Peneus was flowing



And all dark Tempe lay



In Pelion's shadow outgrowing



The light of the dying day



Speeded by my sweet pipings.



The Sileni and Sylvans and Fauns



And the Nymphs of the woods and waves



To the edge of the moist river-lawns



And the brink of the dewy caves



And all that did then attend and follow



Were silent with love as you now Apollo



With envy of my sweet pipings.



I sang of the dancing stars



I sang of the d？dal earth



And of heaven and the giant wars



And love and death and birth.



And then I changed my pipings-



Singing how down the vale of M？nalus



I pursued a maiden and clasp'd a reed：



Gods and men we are all deluded thus！



It breaks in our bosom and then we bleed.



All wept-as I think both ye now would



If envy or age had not frozen your blood-



At the sorrow of my sweet pipings.
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