And all the woodland’s airy folk, who shun
Man’s presence, to his frolic pastime run
From their perennial wells and sacred trees.
16
Now on his knee his pipe laid by, he spoke
With flippant tongue, wounding unwittingly
The heart he sought to cheer with jest and joke.
‘And what hast thou to do with misery,’
He said, ‘who hast such beauty as might gain
The love of Eros? Cast away thy pain,