Such downs Pan loves, and ofttime places
His lonely altars on them.
I
One of such now behold. A high
Mound bears it, and its nakedness
Of festal fruit and fragrant dress
Hints 'tis new-built.
Up, then, and sound
A rally to the sacred ground:
FAUN'S RALLY.
Faun. Come ye, merry shepherds all,
Hulli-lulli-li-lo!
Listen to my piping call:
Hulli-li-lo!
Hasten to Pan's festival;
Leave your sheep.
Cannot Pan a shrewd watch keep
O'er his own?
Safe are they as pent in stall;
Safe are they, for Pan has thrown
Fear about them like a wall.
Wherefore, shepherds, hither run.
I have set my pipes to lip;
Now they cry despondingly
As mid shaken locks I dip.
Now shrill—as hark!—I lift them high
To swirl the tune about the sky!
Up and down and round the sky
Till want I further force to blow....
Wherefore, shepherds, hither run,
Dance behind me as I skip;
Strike the tóssed támbours in únison,
Dance, dance and make to dance the sun
To your Hulli-li-lo!
Shepherds. Faun, I come. I hear. We hear—
Faun. This my Hulli-li-lo:
Now afar and now anear.
Shepherds. Never sped the midnight deer
Half so fast
'Fore Diana's star-ringed spear
As now haste we to appear
At thy Hulli-li-lo!
Faun. Joy, O shepherds, at the sound:
Hulli-lulli-li-lo!
Pan's new altar I have found:
Hulli-li-lo!
Cowslips prank its holy mound,
With ivy have I wreathed it round—
But not yet
Is the altar's dress complete
Till with flowers its horns are bound.
Shepherds. Faun, we hear, and from the brook
Flags are pulled; and now we hook
Honeysuckle high, low
Down to us with shepherd's crook;
Breathing floss,
Clematis twines, rushy stook,
Apple blossom, down is shook
At thy Hulli-li-lo!