Nothing is out of Nature’s course, the mode
In which She acts; but Fancy loves to load
Being with mysteries; not learn the laws
Within our ken that rule Earth, our abode.
Thus, a charmed husbandman will vigils keep,
Imagining far echoes breaking sleep,
’Mid silences that seem to hold their breath,
To be Pan come, half God, half Beast, with leap,
And rustle of his bristly, pine-wreathed head—
Drawn lip running o’er shrilling pipe—to lead