W[h]ere loud waves are dumb,
Listening my sweet pipings;
The wind in the reeds & the rushes, [39]
The bees on the bells of thyme,
The birds on the myrtle bushes[,]
The cicale above in the lime[,]
And the lizards below in the grass,
Were as silent as ever old Tmolus was
Listening my sweet pipings.

Liquid Peneus was flowing,
And all dark Tempe lay
In Pelion's shadow, outgrowing
The light of the dying day
Speeded by my sweet pipings.
The Sileni, & Sylvans, & Fauns
And the nymphs of the woods & the waves
To the edge of the moist river-lawns,
And the brink of the dewy caves[,]
And all that did then attend & follow
Were silent with love, as you now, Apollo!
With envy of my sweet pipings.

I sang of the dancing stars,
I sang of the daedal Earth---
And of heaven--& the giant wars--
And Love, & death, [&] birth,
And then I changed my pipings, [40]
Singing how down the vale of Menalus,
I pursued a maiden & clasped a reed,