r in his shapes chaunge straungely to and fro?
The well of horned Hammon is at noonetyde passing cold.
At morne and even it wexeth warme. At midnyght none can hold
His hand therin for passing heate. The well of Athamane,
Is sayd to kindle woode what tyme the moone is in the wane.
The Cicons have a certeine streame which beeing droonk dooth bring
Mennes bowwelles into Marble hard: and whatsoever thing
Is towcht therwith, it turnes to stone. And by your bounds behold
The rivers Crathe and Sybaris make yellow heare like gold
And Amber. There are also springs (which thing is farre more straunge)
Which not the bodye only, but the mynd doo also chaunge.
Whoo hath not heard of Salmacis, that fowle and filthye sink?
Or of the lake of Aethyop, which if a man doo drink,
He eyther ronneth mad, or else with woondrous drowzinesse
Forgoeth quyght his memorie? Whoo ever dooth represse
His thirst with drawght of Clitor well, hates wyne, and dooth delyght
In only water: eyther for bycause th