THE ENCOUNTER

’Twas there in Tempé that he lay Under a plane-tree, fast asleep, His pipes far-flung.—Pan! growing gray; Lines on his mocking face; his gay Scuffling hoofs forgot to leap. The river pleaded, “Wake the God”; The birds sat by with soft aside; Up from the delicate spring-sod I saw the eager flowers nod, And little leaves my language tried. I woke Pan. Bore the deep earth-gaze On my false being, false to life By all the dreary modern ways: “Pan,” I dared whisper—“long the days— One needs thy music in the Strife. “Full many a spring when poppies fired This brook-side, did I play for you.” Pan answered me: “My music tired, For colder music you desired; So be it—I am weary too!” “Forgive me for my sad unworth, Oh, patient Pan,” I murmured low. “I know that I have failed the earth; Only, perhaps, by spirit-birth, My children thy wild pipes will know.” Pan frowned: “Nay, all the world doth rave; Against the Pipe; they rant, like you! Go, people my deserted cave With theories and books. Zeus save That I should hinder what you do!” Far back in Tempé’s leafy glade The dappled sunshine filtered through, And dewdrops opalled every blade. I was not of the god afraid.— And still there was a thing to do. “Ah, Pan, dear Pan,” I softly cried, “Who is it that shall save but thee? Thy music, god, the whole world wide, Is listened for on country-side, And every dreamer bows the knee! “By musky grapes in rosy hands, And all the golden fruits that glow, A happy lover understands Thy fluting, hearts in sober lands Languish till they thy clear pipe know! “Ah, Pan—play on! Forgive the souls Whom knowledge cheats of love; forgive That life exacts its bitter tolls And leads to artificial goals. Oh! Play! that we may surelier live!” I bent, I touched the shaggy hoof, The horns; I looked into the eyes Clear as rock pools, and yet aloof Like wild bird’s, then I saw the proof That Pan is kind beyond surmise. Tears! In Pan’s eyes!—I sprang away (Not even Pan should see me weep)— Yet on through Tempé, all that day I heard wild, happy piping.—Yea, I wakened Pan!—He’s not asleep!