Its sides were covered with thick, green woods; and it was so high that its peak seemed to pierce through the clouds, up, up into the sky, till the eye could scarcely follow it. […] Come, Cupid, give up the bow which rightfully belongs to me.” […] He took up his beloved lyre, but its charm for him was gone. […] come up! […] cried Glaucus, and he took up a handful and began to chew it.