The wicked prince of the power of the air-
Son of the tyrant-
Behold his power!

On the south wind he devours
The serpent; on the west wind
He carries war’s arrows.

His unkindness pays tribute, black and glossy
Like the midnight of his arms.
Chestnut pages wait on him.

His silence is majesty-
His battle cry is terror-
His voice is the canyon’s echo.

Descended from the kings of old
His crown is as white as the clouds
His gnarled hands grasp that which he desires.

The peasants till their soil in vain-
The prince seeks out their hovels
And devours them whole.

Cower, empire of Pan!
The evil prince is coming!
He soars and seizes what he pleases!