Ovid's metamorphoses in fifteen books :: :: University of Virginia Library

Beneath the Hill, all comfortless she laid,
The dropping Tears her Eyes incessant shed,
'Till pitying Phœbè eas'd her pious Woe,
Thaw'd to a Spring, whose Streams for ever flow.

The Nymphs, and Virbius, like Amazement fill'd,
As seiz'd the Swains, who Tyrrhene Furrows till'd;
When heaving up, a Clod was seen to roll,
Untouch'd, self-mov'd, and big with human Soul.
The spreading Mass its former Shape depos'd,
Began to shoot, and Arms and Legs disclos'd,
'Till form'd a perfect Man, the living Mold
Op'd its new Mouth, and future Truths foretold;
And Tages nam'd by Natives of the Place,
Taught Arts prophetic to the Tuscan Race.

Or such as once by Romulus was shown,
Who saw his Lance with sprouting Leaves o'er-grown,
When fix'd in Earth the Point began to shoot,
And growing downward turn'd a fibrous Root;
While spread aloft the branching Arms display'd,
O'er wond'ring Crowds, an unexpected Shade.