Poor Pan, undeterred by the zealous passion of Echo for Narcissus, still
continued to love her, and pleased himself by wandering in the woods and
deserts, there calling upon her, for the pleasure of hearing her voice in
reply.
"In thy cavern-hall,
Echo! art thou sleeping?
By the fountain's fall
Dreamy silence keeping?
Yet one soft note borne
From the shepherd's horn,
Wakes thee, Echo! into music leaping,
Strange sweet Echo! into music leaping.
"Then the woods rejoice,
Then glad sounds are swelling,
From each sister voice
Round thy rocky dwelling;
And their sweetness fills
All the hollow hills,
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With a thousand notes of _one_ life telling!
Softly mingled notes, of one life telling.
"Echo! in my heart
Thus deep thoughts are lying,
Silent and apart,
Buried, yet undying,
Till some gentle tone
Wakening haply _one_,
Calls a thousand forth, like thee replying!
Strange sweet Echo, even like thee replying."