Classic Poem

Great Pan, to thee we do confine
This fleece of wool. This bowl of wine
To father Bacchus. Ceres dear,
This garland of the wheaten ear
Accept. Silvanus, we present
These fruits to thee thy bounty sent.
And you maids, from whose each eye
Wingèd shafts of love do fly,
Do not shame to let your feet
In a country measure meet
With these youths, whose active parts
Will play the thieves, and steal your hearts.