Pan and the Maiden
Pan lives—Pan lives—Pan lives—Pan lives to- night!
The fauns awake, the satyrs dance to-night—
Oh, tingling blood which stings and whirls me on,
And hurls me to them—loose me—let me go.
The fauns awake, the satyrs dance to-night—
Oh, tingling blood which stings and whirls me on,
And hurls me to them—loose me—let me go.
The Lover
Never! I hold you fast—you shall not leave me!
The Maiden
This one night, only this night, I will return—
Oh, my beloved! I will come again,
But now my limbs are mad to wind themselves
With branches of the vine—the kiss of Pan
Burns on my lips, it burns my soul away—
Oh, my beloved! I will come again,
But now my limbs are mad to wind themselves
With branches of the vine—the kiss of Pan
Burns on my lips, it burns my soul away—
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