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I shiver with rapture; I soar on the wings of sudden joy!  O Pan, O Pan, appear to us, sea-rover, from the stony ridge of snow-beaten Cyllene. King, dancemaker for the gods, come, so that joining with us you may set on the Nysian and the Cnosian steps,  your self-taught dances. Now I want to dance. And may Apollo, lord of Delos, step over the Icarian sea  and join me in his divine form, in eternal benevolence!
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