the merits of our Lord Jesus Christ, expound, I pray you, the mystery of
your goat's horns and your shaggy limbs ending in those black, cloven
hoofs."

At the question, the old man lifted up his arms towards heaven, and
said:

"My son, the nature of men and animals, of plants and stones, is the
secret of the immortal gods, and I know as little as yourself what is
the reason of these horns wherewith my brow is decked, and which the
Nymphs used in olden days to wind about with garlands of flowers. I
cannot tell you the meaning of the two wrinkled folds that droop from my
neck, nor why I have the feet of a wanton goat. But I would have you
know, my son, there was once in these woods a race of women having
horned brows like mine and shaggy thighs. Yet were their bosoms round
and white, and their belly and polished loins shone in the light. The
sun was young then, and loved to fleck them with his golden arrows, as
they lay beneath the shady foliage. They were very fair, my son; but
alas! they have vanished from the woods, every one. My mates have
perished likewise, and I am left lonely, the last of my tribe."

"I would fain know your age, old man, and your lineage and country."

"My son, I was born of the Earth long ere Jupiter had dethroned Saturn,
and my eyes have looked upon the flowery freshness of the new-created
World. Not yet had the human race emerged from the clay. Alone with me,
the dancing Satyr girls set the ground ringing with the rhythmic beat of
their double hoofs. They were taller and stronger and fairer than either
Nymphs or Women; and their ampler loins received abundantly the seed of
the first-born of Earth.