See t their chariot fades away; Farewell, lost Proserpina,” Were the last words of Cyane, for she was transformed into a fountain, and the young girls of Sicily who dwell near it repaired thither every year, to sing songs to her memory? […] Philomela remained a whole year in confinement, without being able to inform her sister of her unhappy condition; but at last she devised an expedient that might communicate her misfortunes to Progne. […] She still inhabits woods and solitary places, and always repeats the last word which she hears. […] Narcissus, weary with pursuing a brilliant butterfly, of the very largest size, which at last eluded his grasp, just as his fingers brushed its party-coloured wings, threw himself down by a fountain-side, to cool and refresh himself. […] Stheno, Euryale, Medusa these: The last ill-fated, since of mortal date: The two Immortal, and unchanged by years.”