The fauns and sylvans, with the nymphs that rove Among the satyrs in the shady grove, Olympus, known of old, and every swain That fed, or flock, or herd, upon the plain, Bewail’d the loss, and with their tears, that flow’d, A kindly moisture on the earth bestow’d, That soon, conjoin’d and in a body ranged, Sprung from the ground, to limpid water changed; Which, down through Phrygia’s rocks, a mighty stream, Comes tumbling to the sea, and Marsya is its name.