“...his tears stirred the water, and the image became obscured in the rippling pool. As he saw it vanishing, he cried out ... While he weeps, he tears at the top of his clothes: then strikes his naked chest with hands of marble...  As he sees all this reflected in the dissolving waves, he can bear it no longer, but as yellow wax melts in a light flame, as morning frost thaws in the sun, so he is weakened and melted by love, and worn away little by little by the hidden fire."

From Ovid's Metamorphoses, Book III (Trans. AS Kline)