Out of the jungle he came, he came,

Man of the lion’s breed,

His heart was fire and his eyes were flame,

And he piped on a singing reed.

Spring was sweet and keen in his blood,

Singing, he sought his mate,

The wife for the life and time of his mood,

Formed for his needs by fate.

Over his reed he piped and sang,

His eyes were the eyes of a man,

But the jungle knew how his changes rang,

For his heart was the heart of Pan.