But there were wise, immortal voices in certain caves and trees. Men
called them Oracles; for here the gods spoke in answer to the prayers
of folk in sorrow or bewilderment. Sometimes they built a temple around
such a befriending voice, and kings would journey far to hear it speak.

As for Pan, only one grief had he, and in the end a glad thing came of
it.

One day, when he was loitering in Arcadia, he saw the beautiful
wood-nymph Syrinx. She was hastening to join Diana at the chase, and
she herself was as swift and lovely as any bright bird that one longs
to capture. So Pan thought, and he hurried after to tell her. But
Syrinx turned, caught one glimpse of the god's shaggy locks and bright
eyes, and the two little horns on his head (he was much like a wild
thing, at a look), and she sprang away down the path in terror.

Begging her to listen, Pan followed; and Syrinx, more and more
frightened by the patter of his hoofs, never heeded him, but went as
fast as light till she came to the brink of the river. Only then she
paused, praying her friends, the water-nymphs, for some way of escape.
The gentle, bewildered creatures, looking up through the water, could
think of but one device.

Just as the god overtook Syrinx and stretched out his arms to her, she
vanished like a mist, and he found himself grasping a cluster of tall
reeds. Poor Pan!

The breeze that sighed whenever he did--and oftener--shook the reeds
and made a sweet little sound,--a sudden music. Pan heard it, half