That naught for endless life is made.1035
At his sweet strains the rushing stream
Its uproar stilled, and all its waves
Paused in forgetfulness of flight;
And while the waters stayed to hear,1040
The tribes far down the Hebrus' stream
Deemed that their river was no more.
All wingéd creatures of the wood
And e'en the woods themselves came near
To listen; or, if far on high