The Sileni And Sylvans And Fauns

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 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
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