'A lake there was with shelving banks around, Whose verdant summit fragrant myrtles crown'd. These shades, unknowing of the fates, she sought, And to the Naiads flowery garlands brought: Her smiling babe (a pleasing charge) she press'd Within her arms, and nourish'd at her breast. 20 Not distant far, a watery lotus grows; The spring was new, and all the verdant boughs, Adorn'd with blossoms, promised fruits that vie In glowing colours with the Tyrian dye: Of these she cropp'd, to please her infant son, And I myself the same rash act had done: But, lo! I saw (as near her side I stood) The violated blossoms drop with blood; Upon the tree I cast a frightful look; The trembling tree with sudden horror shook. 30 Lotis the nymph (if rural tales be true) As from Priapus' lawless lust she flew, Forsook her form, and, fixing here, became A flowery plant, which still preserves her name. 'This change unknown, astonish'd at the sight, My trembling sister strove to urge her flight; And first the pardon of the nymphs implored, And those offended sylvan powers adored: But when she backward would have fled, she found Her stiffening feet were rooted in the ground: 40 In vain to free her fasten'd feet she strove, And as she struggles only moves above; She feels th' encroaching bark around her grow By quick degrees, and cover all below: Surprised at this, her trembling hand she heaves To rend her hair; her hand is fill'd with leaves: Where late was hair, the shooting leaves are seen To rise, and shade her with a sudden green. The child Amphissus, to her bosom press'd, Perceived a colder and a harder breast, 50 And found the springs, that ne'er till then denied Their milky moisture, on a sudden dried. I saw, unhappy! what I now relate, And stood the helpless witness of thy fate; Embraced thy boughs, thy rising bark delay'd, There wish'd to grow, and mingle shade with shade. 'Behold Andraemon and th' unhappy sire Appear, and for their Dryope inquire: A springing tree for Dryope they find, And print warm kisses on the panting rind, 60 Prostrate, with tears their kindred plant bedew, And close embrace as to the roots they grew. The face was all that now remain'd of thee, No more a woman, nor yet quite a tree; Thy branches hung with humid pearls appear, From every leaf distils a trickling tear; And straight a voice, while yet a voice remains, Thus through the trembling boughs in sighs complains: