"Thus bland-beseeching, who could e'er withstand?
"Yet these persisted;--obstinate refus'd
"To grant her wish, and with opprobrious speech
"And threats revil'd her, should she there remain.
"Nor rested thus,--the lake with hands and feet
"Muddy they trouble; with malicious leaps
"They agitate the pool, and upward stir
"From the deep bottom clouds of slimy ooze.
"Anger her thirst diverted. Rage deny'd
"More supplication from th' indignant dame.
"Their threatening words, no more the goddess brook'd;
"But raising high to heaven her hands, she cry'd,--
"Be this your home for ever!--Gracious heard,
"Her prayer was granted. Now they joy to plunge,
"Beneath the waters; now they deep immerge
"Their bodies in the hollow fen; now raise
"Their heads, and skim the surface of the pool,
"Often they rest upon the margin's brink,
"And oft light-springing, in the cool lake plunge.
"Now still their rude contentious tongues they use,
"Still squabbling, lost to shame beneath the waves:
"Beneath the waves they still abusings strive
"To utter. Hoarsely still their voice is heard,
"Through their wide-bloated throats. Their railing words,
"Their jaws more wide dilate. Depriv'd of neck,
"Their head and back in junction seem to meet;
"Green shine their backs; their bellies, hugely swol'n
"Are white; and frogs they plunge within the pool."

Thus as the man, the fate destructive told
Of Lycia's clowns, to mind another call'd
The satyr's fate, who vanquish'd in the strife
Of skill, on Pallas' pipe, Latona's son
Severely punish'd.--"Wherefore thus,"--he cries,
"Rent from myself? O, penitent I bow.
"The pipe," he shrieks, "should not such rage provoke."
Exclaiming thus, o'er his extremest limbs
Stript was his skin; he one continuous wound!
Blood flow'd from every part; the naked nerves
Bare started; and the trembling veins full throbb'd,
By skin uncover'd. Every beating part
Inward, the breast's translucent fibres plain
Display'd to sight. Him every forest fawn;
Each brother satyr; and each sylvan god;
And every nymph, with fam'd Olympus wept:
And every swain, the woolly flock who fed;
Or on the mountain watch'd the horned herd.
Wash'd by their falling tears, the fertile earth
Is soak'd,--absorbs them in her inmost veins;
Then form'd to water, spouts them high in air.
Rapid 'twixt banks declivitous, they seek
The ocean. Marsya, is th