And here are two of the most characteristic strophes from Ben Jonson's hymns:--
Pan is our all, by him we breathe, we live, We move, we are; 'tis he our lambs doth rear, Our flocks doth bless, and from the store doth give The warm and finer fleeces that we wear. He keeps away all heats and colds, Drives all diseases from our folds: Makes every where the spring to dwell, The ewes to feed, their udders swell; But if he frown, the sheep (alas) The shepherds wither, and the grass. Strive, strive to please him then by still increasing thus The rites are due to him, who doth all right for us.
Great Pan, the father of our peace and pleasure, Who giv'st us all this leisure, Hear what thy hallowed troop of herdsmen pray For this their holy-day, And how their vows to thee they in Lycæum pay. So may our ewes receive the mounting rams, And we bring thee the earliest of our lambs: So may the first of all our fells be thine, And both the breastning of our goats and kine. As thou our folds dost still secure, And keep'st our fountains sweet and pure, Driv'st hence the wolf, the tod, the brock, Or other vermin from the flock. That we preserv'd by thee, and thou observ'd by us, May both live safe in shade of thy lov'd Maenalus.
Comparing these strophes with the hymn in _Endymion_, we shall realize how the Elizabethan pastoral spirit, compounded as it was of native English love of country pleasures and Renaissance delight in classic poetry, emerged after near two centuries' occultation to reappear in the poetry of Keats, but wonderfully strengthened in imaginative reach and grasp, richer and more romantic both in the delighted sense of nature's blessings and activities and in the awed apprehension of a vast mystery behind them. The sense of such mystery is nowhere else expressed by Keats with such brooding inwardness and humbleness as where he invokes Pan no longer as a shepherd's god but as a symbol of the World-All. Wordsworth, when Keats at the request of friends read the piece to him, could see, or would own to seeing, nothing in it but a 'pretty piece of paganism,' though indeed in the more profoundly felt and imagined lines, such as those with which the first and fifth strophes open, the inspiration can be traced in great part to the influence of Wordsworth himself:--