P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses
Arthur Golding, Ed.

No kind of thing keepes ay his shape and hew.
For nature loving ever chaunge repayres one shape anew
Uppon another. Neyther dooth there perrish aught (trust mee)
In all the world, but altring takes new shape. For that which wee
Doo terme by name of being borne, is for to gin to bee
Another thing than that it was: and likewise for to dye,
To cease to bee the thing it was. And though that varyably
Things passe perchaunce from place to place: yit all from whence they came
Returning, do unperrisshed continew still the same.
But as for in one shape, bee sure that nothing long can last.
Even so the ages of the world from gold to Iron past.
Even so have places oftentymes exchaunged theyr estate.
For I have seene it sea which was substanciall ground alate,
Ageine where sea was, I have seene the same become dry lond,
And shelles and scales of Seafish farre have lyen from any strond,
And in the toppes of mountaynes hygh old Anchors have beene found.
Deepe valleyes have by watershotte beene made of levell ground,
And hilles by force of gulling oft have into sea beene worne.
Hard gravell ground is sumtyme seene where marris was beforne,
And that that erst did suffer drowght, becommeth standing lakes.
Heere nature sendeth new springs out, and there the old in takes.
Full many rivers in the world through earthquakes heretofore
Have eyther chaundgd theyr former course, or dryde and ronne no more.
Soo Lycus beeing swallowed up by gaping of the ground,
A greatway off fro thence is in another channell found.
Even so the river Erasine among the feeldes of Arge
Sinkes one whyle, and another whyle ronnes greate ageine at large.
Caycus also of the land of Mysia (as men say)
Misliking of his former head, ronnes now another way.
In Sicill also Amasene ronnes sumtyme full and hye,
And sumtyme stopping up his spring, he makes his chanell drye.
Men drank the waters of the brooke Anigrus heretofore,
Which now is such that men abhorre to towche them any more.
Which commes to passe, (onlesse wee will discredit Poets quyght)
Bycause the Centaures vanquisshed by Hercules in fyght
Did wash theyr woundes in that same brooke. But dooth not Hypanis
That springeth in the Scythian hilles, which at his fountaine is
Ryght pleasant, afterward becomme of brackish bitter taste?
Antissa, and Phenycian Tyre, and Pharos in tyme past
Were compast all about with waves: but none of all theis three
Is now an Ile. Ageine the towne of Lewcas once was free
From sea, and in the auncient tyme was joyned to the land.
But now environd round about with water it dooth stand.
Men say that Sicill also hath beene joynd to Italy
Untill the sea consumde the bounds beetweene, and did supply
The roome with water. If yee go to seeke for Helicee
And Burye which were Cities of Achaia, you shall see
Them hidden under water, and the shipmen yit doo showe
The walles and steeples of the townes drownd under as they rowe.
Not farre from Pitthey Troyzen is a certeine high ground found
All voyd of trees, which heeretofore was playne and levell ground,
But now a mountayne. For the wyndes (a woondrous thing to say)
Inclosed in the hollow caves of ground, and seeking way
To passe therefro, in struggling long to get the open skye
In vayne, (bycause in all the cave there was no vent wherby
To issue out,) did stretch the ground and make it swell on hye,
As dooth a bladder that is blowen by mouth, or as the skinne
Of horned Goate in bottlewyse when wynd is gotten in.
The swelling of the foresayd place remaynes at this day still,
And by continuance waxing hard is growen a pretye hill.
Of many things that come to mynd by heersay, and by skill
Of good experience, I a fewe will utter to you mo.
What? Dooth not water in his shapes chaunge straungely to and fro?
The well of horned Hammon is at noonetyde passing cold.
At morne and even it wexeth warme. At midnyght none can hold
His hand therin for passing heate. The well of Athamane,
Is sayd to kindle woode what tyme the moone is in the wane.
The Cicons have a certeine streame which beeing droonk dooth bring
Mennes bowwelles into Marble hard: and whatsoever thing
Is towcht therwith, it turnes to stone. And by your bounds behold
The rivers Crathe and Sybaris make yellow heare like gold
And Amber. There are also springs (which thing is farre more straunge)
Which not the bodye only, but the mynd doo also chaunge.
Whoo hath not heard of Salmacis, that fowle and filthye sink?
Or of the lake of Aethyop, which if a man doo drink,
He eyther ronneth mad, or else with woondrous drowzinesse
Forgoeth quyght his memorie? Whoo ever dooth represse
His thirst with drawght of Clitor well, hates wyne, and dooth delyght
In only water: eyther for bycause there is a myght
Contrary unto warming wyne by nature in the well,
Or else bycause (for so the folk of Arcadye doo tell)
Melampus, Amythaons sonne (when he delivered had
King Praetus daughters by his charmes and herbes from being mad),
Cast into that same water all the baggage wherewithall
He purdgd the madnesse of theyr mynds. And so it did befall,
That lothsomnesse of wyne did in those waters ay remayne.
Ageine in Lyncest contrarie effect to this dooth reigne.
For whoo so drinkes too much therof, he reeleth heere and there
As if by quaffing wyne no whyt alayd he droonken were.
There is a Lake in Arcadye which Pheney men did name
In auncient tyme, whoose dowtfulnesse deserveth justly blame.
A nyght tymes take thou heede of it, for if thou taste the same
A nyghttymes, it will hurt. But if thou drink it in the day
It hurteth not.