And in so moche he worshypped the same
Tyll at the last his mynde was past and gone
And he transformed so was in to that stone
And if the Poetis fables be all sure
As by theyr subtyle wordes oft we here
The childe Narcissus was chaungyd of fygure
Whyle he behelde into the water clere
For whyle his shadowe vnto hym dyd apere
Vpon the same so sore he set his mynde
That he transformyd was to another kynde.