III

I sang of the dancing stars,

I sang of the daedal Earth,

And of Heaven—and the giant wars,

And Love, and Death, and Birth,—

And then I changed my pipings,—

Singing how down the vale of Maenalus

I pursued a maiden and clasped a reed.

Gods and men, we are all deluded thus!

It breaks in our bosom and then we bleed:

All wept, as I think both ye now would,

If envy or age had not frozen your blood,

At the sorrow of my sweet pipings.