Just thought to strain her in his strict embrace,
He filled his arms with reeds, new rising in the place:
And while he sighs his ill success to find,
The tender canes were shaken by the wind,
And breathed a mournful air unheard before,
That much surprizing Pan, yet pleased him more,
Admiring this new music, 'Thou' he said,
'Who cans't not be the partner of my bed,
At least shall be the consort of my mind,
And often, often to my lips be joined.'