"The Forest Song" is a Greek legend.

Long ago, the god Hermes looked down from his home on Mount Olympus and began to wonder what life on Earth must be like. He thought he should discover this for himself, and so he disguised himself as a shepherd and traveled to the forest of Arcadia in southern Greece.

As Hermes stood upon the mountains watching over his flocks, he decided that he must marry and have a child, and though some disagree, many say that it is Hermes' child who became the god we know as Pan.

Pan came into this world brimming with energy, every one of his senses alive and delighted by all that life offered. But, sadly, Pan was born a strange-looking creature, with pointed ears and horns sprouting from above his brows, his legs and feet like those of a goat, and with a scraggly beard and bushy brows and eyes that gleamed. He frightened those who came upon him.

To protect Pan from the cruel taunts of those who called him names or screamed at the sight of him, Hermes carried him to Mount Olympus. There the gods raised him and looked after him as one of their own.

But as Pan grew older, he longed for the scent of pine needles and the sweet forest air. He ached to hear the birds call and to feel the ground beneath his hooves. He remembered the craggy mountains and the bright blue sky, the clear streams and towering trees, and he dreamed of the wild beasts in his forest.

And so, though he possessed the power of a god, Pan returned to the Arcadian forest, and there, among birds and beasts, satyrs and fauns, nymphs and spirits, Pan once again danced and sang, wandering up and down the mountainsides. His task, he decided, was to care for the flocks and bees, and for him this was not a burden but a joy. He slept outside in sun and rain, and he lived on the wild fruit, seeds and nuts the other forest creatures shared with him.

He was seldom lonely, for the forest was alive with life, including many of those the gods had transformed into flowers and trees: Dryope, the lotus tree; and Echo, once a wood nymph, now only a voice; and Narcissus, the boy who so loved his reflection that he was turned into a beautiful wildflower. And there was Clytie, the girl who loved the sun god Apollo, who was turned into a sunflower, her head moving toward the sun wherever he traveled.

One warm spring day, wearing a crown of pine needles, Pan scampered across the mountain peaks. He came upon wood nymphs fast asleep beside a mountain stream. The sun had made them drowsy. There, among the lovelies, was the beautiful Syrinx. When Pan saw her, his heart pounded with love.

"I must have her," he said to himself, and he stepped quietly toward her, his arms outstretched to embrace her. But in his haste, the god stepped on a dry branch, and Syrinx heard the crack. Awakening, she saw his shining eyes and shaggy locks, and she fled into the woods. Syrinx did not want to be loved by anyone, but especially not by such a strange one as Pan.

Pan raced after her. Syrinx darted between the trees, but then she saw that she was trapped, for there before her was the river Ladon, and Pan was close behind; she could hear his hooves upon the ground.

Syrinx looked down at the water and prayed to the water nymphs. "Save me," she implored, "save me, please." When her sisters of the river heard her cry, they resolved to save her.

Then Pan was there, and he reached out to take Syrinx's arm, but just as he did, the nymphs performed their magic, and before his eyes, Syrinx transformed into a slender marsh reed.

Pan, panting from his run, heaved a great sigh, and his sigh rushing over that reed made a sound that filled the air.

Pan looked down into the water where his beloved stood, and sorrowfully he sighed again, and this time he heard a deeper tone. Pan began to breathe upon the reeds, noticing the different sound each one made.

Heartbroken, he collected the reeds, and with wax from his beehives, he fitted them together to make a set of pipes.

That evening, he sat beside the lake and blew upon his instrument. The forest was filled with beautiful music, and Pan sighed, but this time with happiness. "The nymphs will love me for my songs," he declared, and so he played on. And forever afterward the forests of Arcadia were filled with this magical music from the pipes of Pan.