Empyrium

't was an eve in late summer, autumn was nigh
still a warm sun did colour the sky
The meadows did shine in a strange golden light
and vales did forth the soft haze of night
When through the air a voice did resound
beckoning the shepherd to rise from the ground
THE SHEPHERD:
What sweet voice does sing in such a woebegone tone?
What maiden does wander the heather alone?
Bewitched by its tone, he followed her song,
whilst the sun did descend and the shadows grew long
In the dim light of dusk, near the sparkling cascade