Hymn III: If Yet, If Yet

If yet, if yet,
Pan's orgies you will further fit,
See where the silver-footed fays do sit,
The nymphs of wood and water;
Each tree's and fountain's daughter!
Go take them forth, it will be good
To see them wave it like a wood,
And others wind it like a flood;
In springs,
And rings,
Till the applause it brings,
Wakes Echo from her seat,
The closes to repeat.

Ech. The closes to repeat.

Echo the truest oracle on ground,
Though nothing but a sound.

Ech. Though nothing but a sound.

Beloved of Pan the valley's queen.

Ech. The valley's queen.

And often heard, though never seen.

Ech. Though never seen.