Classic Poem

Where do these Voices stray,
Which lose in Woods their Way?
Erring each Step anew,
While they false Paths pursue.
Through many Windings led,
Some crookedly proceed ,
Some to the Ear turn back ,
Asking , which way to take.
Wandring without a Guide,
They holla from each side,
And call , and answer all
To one another's Call .

Whence may these Sounds proceed,
From Woods, or from the Dead?
Sure, Souls here once forlorn,
The Living make their Scorn,
And Shepherds , that liv'd here,
Now ceasing to appear,
Mock thus in sport the Fair ,
That would not grant their Pray'r:
While Nymphs their Voices learn,
And mock them, in Return.
Or if at least, the Sound ,
Does from the Woods rebound;
The Woods , of them complain,
Who Shepherds Vows disdain.
Woods , and Rocks , answer all
To the wrong'd Lover 's Call.
How deaf soe're, and hard ,
They their Complaints regard;
Which Nymphs with Scorn repay,
More deaf , more hard , then they .