Hark to the waves how in their savage strife,
They wake the echoes in the rocks to life.
Thou weenest 'midst their streaming
Stands mighty Pan, exulting as they brawl,
O'er back and arms, and all
His tresses flowing free
He gazes, how the waves in torrents fall,
And claps his hands for glee.
ECLOGUE
The air is steeped in scent of berries, and 'tis crystal-clear around,
How the moss is palpitating underneath thy tread!
And from the rushes strains like unto melodies of flutes resound,
A gleaming rain of blossoms from the hawthorn bush is shed.
Thou askest—joylul tears within thine eye,
"Why is this, O why?"
On high
The bird speaks, at thy foot the blossom of the field,
"Only thus can all Spring's wonders be revealed."
Thy breath is sweet with scent of berries, crystal-clear thine eye is gleaming,
How thy bosom 'neath the pressure of my hand doth thrill!
