CANTO FIRST I THE Gods of old are silent on their shore, Since the great Pan expired, and through the roar Of the Ionian waters broke a dread Voice which proclaim'd 'the Mighty Pan is dead.' How much died with him! false or true -- the dream Was beautiful which peopled every stream With more than finny tenants, and adorn'd The woods and waters with coy nymphs that scorn'd Pursuing Deities, or in the embrace Of gods brought forth the high heroic race Whose names are on the hills and o'er the seas. |