[XIII. Chast Syrinx fled, feare hasting on her pace]
Chast
Syrinx fled
Chast
Syrinx fled, chast Syrinx fled, feare hasting on her
pace, hasting, hasting on her pace, With loosed
haire, and teare bedewed face, and teare bedewed
face, Wearie God wot, And Pan behinde her,
and Pan behinde, and Pan behinde her nye, Pan behinde her nye,
She fills the woods with many a drery, drery cry,
The gods did see, and seeme her case to mourne,
And into reeds, her dainty, dainty
limbs transforme, So now she makes, she makes, so now she
makes most ioyous, ioyous melody,
For ioy she kept her lou'd virginitie.
