Pan again sang, and Midas repeated; when, to his surprise, the latter felt, pressing through his hair, a pair of ears, long and shaggy. […] “I sang of the dancing stars,     I sang of the dædal earth, And of heaven, and giant wars,     And love, and death, and birth, —                      And then I changed my pipings. […] “I once had a haunt near a cot. where a mother Daily sat in the shade with her child, and would smother Its eye-lids in kisses, and then in its sleep Sang dreams in its ears, of its manhood, while deep In a thicket of willows I gazed o’er the brooks That murmured between us, and kissed them with looks; But the willows unbosomed their secret, and never I returned to a spot I had startled for ever; Tho’ I oft longed to know, but could ask it of none, Was the mother still fair, and how big was her son?” […] ‌ In despair at the uselessness of their search, they retired to the sea shore, where, in the midst of desolate rocks, they sang songs of the most enchanting and attractive nature, while those who were drawn by their beauty to listen to them, perished on the spot.