With his sweet carolling, which could assuage
The fiercest wrath of tiger or of bear!
Ye sylvans, fawns and satyrs, that emong
These thickets oft have danced after his pipe!
Ye Nymphs and Naiads with golden hair
That oft have left your purest crystal springs
To hearken to his lays, that coulden wipe
Away all grief and sorrow from your hearts!
Alas! who now is left that like him sings?
When shall you hear again like harmony?