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William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Elizabethan Verse. 1907.

Hymn to Pan

John Fletcher (1579–1625)

SING his praises that doth keep

Our flocks from harm,

Pan, the father of our sheep;

And arm in arm

Tread we softly in a round,

Whilst the hollow neighbouring ground

Fills the music with her sound.

Pan, O great god Pan, to thee

Thus do we sing!

Thou who keep’st us chaste and free

As the young spring:

Ever by thy honour spoke

From that place the morn is broke

To that place day doth unyoke!