“⁠—In the paths of love, through bushes variegated, quiet, trim! Or there along the lake, where goldfishes dance and swim!

“Thou art now aweary? There above are sheep and sunset stripes: is it not sweet to sleep⁠—the shepherd pipes?

“Thou art so very weary? I carry thee thither; let just thine arm sink! And art thou thirsty⁠—I should have something; but thy mouth would not like it to drink!⁠—

“⁠—Oh, that cursed, nimble, supple serpent and lurking-witch! Where art thou gone? But in my face do I feel through thy hand, two spots and red blotches itch!

“I am verily weary of it, ever thy sheepish shepherd to be. Thou witch, if I have hitherto sung unto thee, now shalt thou ⁠—cry unto me!

“To the rhythm of my whip shalt thou dance and cry! I forget not my whip?⁠—Not I!”⁠—