Then Hermes thus: “A nymph of late there was, Whose heavenly form her fellows did surpass; The pride and joy of fair Arcadia’s plains; Beloved by deities, adored by swains; Syrinx her name; by sylvans oft pursued, As oft she did the lustful gods delude; The rural and the woodland powers disdain’d; With Cynthia hunted, and her rites maintain’d; Like Phoebe clad, even Phoebe’s self she seems, So tall, so straight, such well-proportion’d limbs: The nicest eye did no distinction know, But that the goddess bore a golden bow: Distinguish’d thus, the sight she cheated too. Descending from Lycaeus, Pan admires The matchless nymph, and burns with new desires. A crown of pine upon his head he wore; And thus began her pity to implore:⁠— But ere he thus began, she took her flight, So swift, she was already out of sight; Nor stay’d to hear the courtship of the god; But bent her course to Ladon’s gentle flood; There by the river stopp’d, and, tired before, Relief from water-nymphs her prayers implore.