Then the great hero of this gallant train, Surveying far the prospect of the main, “What is that land,” says he, “the waves embrace?” (And with his finger pointed at the place:) “Is it one parted isle, which stands alone? How named? and yet, methinks, it seems not one.” To whom the watery god made this reply: “ ’Tis not one isle, but five; distinct they lie: ’Tis distance which deceives the cheated eye: But, that Diana’s act may seem less strange, These once proud Naiads were, before their change. ’Twas on a day more solemn than the rest, Ten bullocks slain, a sacrificial feast: The rural gods of all the regions near They bid to dance and taste the hallow’d cheer: Me they forgot; affronted with the slight, My rage and stream swell’d to the greatest height; And with the torrent of my flooding store, Large woods from woods, and fields from fields, I tore: The guilty nymphs, O, then rememb’ring me, I, with their country, wash’d into the sea; And joining waters with the social main, Rent the gross land, and split the firm champaign: Since, the Echinades, remote from shore, Are view’d as many isles as nymphs before.”