And, grown a river, now disdains his head; Forgets his humble birth, his name forsakes, And the proud title of Caicus takes. Large Amenane, impure with yellow sands, Runs rapid often, and as often stands; And here he threats the drunken fields to drown, And there his dugs deny to give their liquor down. Anigros once did wholesome draughts afford, But now his deadly waters are abhorred; Since, hurt by Hercules, as fame resounds, The Centaur[41] in his current washed his wounds. The streams of Hypanis are sweet no more, But, brackish, lose their taste they had before. Antissa, Pharos, Tyre, in seas were pent, Once isles, but now increase the continent; While the Leucadian coast, main-land before, By rushing seas is severed from the shore. So Zancle to the Italian earth was tied, And men once walked where ships at anchor ride; Till Neptune overlooked the narrow way, And in disdain poured in the conquering sea. Two cities that adorned the Achaian ground, } Buris and Helice, no more are found, } But, whelmed beneath a lake, are sunk and drowned; } And boatmen through the crystal water show, To wondering passengers, the walls below. Near Træzen stands a hill, exposed in air To winter winds, of leafy shadows bare: This once was level ground; but (strange to tell) The included vapours, that in caverns dwell Labouring with cholic pangs, and close confined, In vain sought issue from the rumbling wind; Yet still they heaved for vent, and, heaving still, Enlarged the concave, and shot up the hill; As breath extends a bladder, or the skins Of goats are blown to inclose the hoarded wines. The mountain yet retains a mountain's face, And gathered rubbish heals the hollow space. Of many wonders, which I heard or knew, Retrenching most, I will relate but few. What, are not springs with qualities opposed Endued at seasons, and at seasons lost? Thrice in a day, thine, Ammon, change their form, Cold at high noon, at morn and evening warm; Thine, Athaman, will kindle wood, if thrown On the piled earth, and in the waning moon. The Thracians have a stream, if any try The taste, his hardened bowels petrify; Whate'er it touches it converts to stones, And makes a marble pavement where it runs. Grathis, and Sibaris her sister flood, That slide through our Calabrian neighbour wood, With gold and amber die the shining hair, And thither youth resort; for who would not be fair? But stranger virtues yet in streams we find; Some change not only bodies, but the mind. Who has not heard of Salmacis obscene, Whose waters into women soften men? Of Æthiopian lakes, which turn the brain To madness, or in heavy sleep constrain? Clytorean streams the love of wine expel,