He came to a river; but as he neared its banks, it suddenly began to bubble and swell and rage, so that Pluto did not dare to drive through its waters. […] At Proserpine’s coming, flowers bloom and birds sing and the earth everywhere smiles its welcome to its young queen. […] In its stead there stood a beautiful flower, with a bright golden center and soft, white petals, which nodded to its reflection in the pool. […] Through it there flowed a restless river, dashing over rocks and scattering its spray, like fine mist, over all the trees on its banks. […] “He threw the magic drug into its eyes.”