When suddenly a mighty voice, that fell With fury on her ears, their sense to scare, That bounding from the tree trunks like the yell Of hundred brazen trumpets, cried 'Forbear! Forbear, fond maid, that froward step to take, For life can cure the ills that love may make; But for the harm of death is no repair.' 12 Then looking up she saw an uncouth form Perch'd on the further bank, whose parted lips Volley'd their friendly warning in a storm: A man he might have been, but for the tips Of horns appearing from his shaggy head, For o'er his matted beard his face was red, And all his shape was manlike to the hips. 13 In forehead low, keen eye, and nostril flat He bore the human grace in mean degree, But, set beneath his body squat and fat, Legs like a goat's, and from the hairy knee The shank fell spare; and, though crosswise he put His limbs in easeful posture, for the foot The beast's divided hoof was plain to see. 14 Him then she knew the mighty choric God, The great hill-haunting and tree-loving Pan; Whom Zeus had laught to see when first he trod Olympus, neither god nor beast nor man: Who every rocky peak and snowy crest Of the Aspran mountains for his own possest, And all their alps with bacchic rout o'erran: 15 Whom, when his pipe he plays on loud and sweet, And o'er the fitted reeds his moist lip flees, Around in measured step with nimble feet Water-nymphs dance and Hamadryades: And all the woodland's airy folk, who shun Man's presence, to his frolic pastime run From their perennial wells and sacred trees. 16 Now on his knee his pipe laid by, he spoke With flippant tongue, wounding unwittingly The heart he sought to cheer with jest and joke. 'And what hast thou to do with misery,' He said, 'who hast such beauty as might gain The love of Eros? Cast away thy pain, And give thy soul to mirth and jollity. 17 'Thy mortal life is but a brittle vase, But as thee list with wine or tears to fill; For all the drops therein are Ohs and Ahs Of joy or grief according to thy will; And wouldst thou learn of me my merry way, I'd teach thee change thy lover every day, And prize the cup that thou wert fain to spill. 18 'Nay, if thou plunge thou shalt not drown nor sink, For I will to thee o'er the stream afloat, And bear thee safe; and O I know a drink For care, that makes sweet music in the throat. Come live with me, my love; I'll cure thy chance: For I can laugh and quaff, and pipe and dance, Swim like a fish, and caper like a goat.' 19