s?"

"Rash Thing, beware," the Hermit cried,
Like agates were his eyes,
"The God I serve you do not know
A strong God, just and wise.
For He will purge your streams and woods,
And smite both hip and thigh
Your Satyrs, amorous bestial sots,
Your careless company
Who wanton in the thymy ways
In which these woods abound,
And kiss with soft empurpled mouths,
Luxuriantly crowned.
My soul is filled with prophecy;
Dimly I see a bark
Which runs by some low wooded isle;
The night is warm and dark,
And from a promontory rings
A sudden bitter cry,
It smites the lonely helmsman's ears
And tingles in the sky.
'Oh! Traveller, tell in every land
These tidings strange and dread,
Let all the peoples wail and weep,
For Pan, great Pan, is dead.'"

Amyntas pursed his pouting lips
And shook his curly head,
"Farewell, old man, the forest calls;
I like you not," he said.
"Your flesh is dried, your ribs are lean,
You are too lank and sere,
Your voice is harsh, your words are grim
And do not please mine ear.
The great god Pan is all I need
And all I wish to know,
My Father Pan, the shepherd's god,
And now, old man, I go."

Behind him closed a greening brake,
And, after many a hail,
He joined his gay companions
And gambolled in a vale.

Love's Defiance.

"Light of my life lie close
Oh! Love, I have found you at last;
Let me hear your low sweet voice
The knell of the aching past.
The lashes lie on your cheek
Oh! lift them and show me your eyes;
Twin stars in a mortal face,
They are soft, they are kind, they are wise."

"Heart of my hungry heart
My hero whose hand is in mine
If we fall let it be to the pit,
For to-day we have touched the divine.
Time has stood still to-day....
This day which has squandered its sun.
It has been all glory and gold
All perfect days in this one."

"Light of my life, my love,
My lady of dreams, lie near,
The evening sighs thro' the pines,
Hark! do you feel no fear?
The light of love flashes out....
Oh! wonder so old and so new--
I am strong with the strength of that name,
Dear, when I look at you."

"Heart of my beating heart,
My friend whose forehead I kiss
In the days which were not days,
Weaker was