XLIV
Reading edition
O but my delicate lover, Is she not fair as the moonlight? Is she not supple and strong For hurried passion?
Has not the god of the green world, 5 In his large tolerant wisdom, Filled with the ardours of earth Her twenty summers?
Well did he make her for loving; Well did he mould her for beauty; 10 Gave her the wish that is brave With understanding.
“O Pan, avert from this maiden Sorrow, misfortune, bereavement, Harm, and unhappy regret,” 15 Prays one fond mortal.