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John Fletcher

(20 December 1579 - 29 August 1625 / Rye, Sussex, England)

Hymn to Pan


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 be thy honour spoke
From that place the morn is broke
To that place day doth unyoke!

Submitted: Saturday, January 04, 2003
Edited: Tuesday, May 22, 2012

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