Devoid of movement, he was there--forgotten.

Trees were around him, whipped by icy blasts--
Gigantic chestnuts, without leaf or bird,
And, like himself, grown old in that same place.
Through the dark network of their undergrowth,
Pallid his aspect; and the earth was brown.
Starless and moonless, a rough winter's night
Was letting down her lappets o'er the mist.
This--nothing more: old Faun, dull sky, dark wood.

Poor, helpless marble, how I've pitied it!
Less often man--the harder of the two.

So, then, without a word that might offend
His ear deformed--for well the marble hears
The voice of thought--I said to him: "You hail
From the gay amorous age. O Faun, what saw you
When you were happy? Were you of the Court?

"Speak to me, comely Faun, as you would speak
To tree, or zephyr, or untrodden grass.
Have you, O Greek, O mocker of old days,
Have you not sometimes with that oblique eye
Winked at the Farnese Hercules?--Alone,
Have you, O Faun, considerately turned
From side to side when counsel-seekers came,
And now advised as shepherd, now as satyr?--
Have you sometimes, upon this very bench,
Seen, at mid-day, Vincent de Paul instilling