XVI

But neither to the moon go I Or to the river gliding by, But to the woods, therein to move Among the quiet glades I love, Desiring nought but aye to see The beech, ash, oak, and chestnut tree.... Till I a nymph meet who persuades Me to the broadest of the glades, Around whose smooth and sunken space The far woods lie. For in this place, Deserted but for a mid-grove Of maiden trees, bower of the dove, Pan plays, and should the sylvans chance, Nymphs, fauns, and sylvans, join in dance.