English poem
How sweet in the woodlands, with fleet…
by Anonymous
How sweet in the woodlands, with fleet hound and horn To waken shrill echo, and taste the fresh morn! But hard is the chase, my fond heart must pursue; For Daphne, fair Daphne, is lost to my view.
Assist me, chaste Dian, the nymph to regain, More wild than the roe-buck, and wing'd with disdain: In pity o'ertake her, who wounds as she flies; Tho' Daphne's pursued, 'tis Myrtillo that dies.