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As young Adonis wakes again from sleep,
With the divine renascence of the year.
So long as the native gladness of the world,
The pure primæval passion of the Spring
Breathe in the soft wind, pulse in the sea wave,
Stir in the blood and beacon from the eye,
Reigns, and shall reign the Universal Pan,
Who is not dead, who never died at all,
Nor ever can die whilst the world endure!
Peregrina:
(To the group in foreground.)
Farewell good people, dwell you here secure,
And lead you still your comfortable lives
Thrill'd by no passion, stung by no despair,
Your dense peace vex'd by no fraternal strife,
Of mind and soul and body's enmity,
Of earthly influence warring with the sky's.
