The Muses comfortless, the nymphs with pallid hue;
The sylvan gods likewise came running far and near;
And all, with hearts bedewed, and eyes cast up on high,
"O help! O help, ye gods!" they ghastly 'gan to cry,
"O change the cruel fate of this so rare a wight
And grant that nature's course may measure out his age!"
The beasts their food forsook, and trembling fearfully,
Each sought his cave or den. This cry did them so fright.
Out from amid the waves, by storm then stirred to rage,
This cry did cause to rise th'old father Ocean hoar,