"And Circe, before we left, warned us how treacherous our paths might be, how vast the ocean was, what dangers wait along the savage sea. Her words - I must confess - filled me with fright; and when we reached this beach, I stayed behind." -Macareus
In essence, he was scared off.
His blabber did not stop until the tree-bark cloaking him climbed up around his neck: he's now a tree, in fact.
Another example of tree metamorphosis.
But then Cybele called to mind that all this timber came from her own pines; and so the Mother of the gods, with brazen cymbals, clanging loud and harsh, and with her brash and blatant boxwood flutes, filled all the sky; drawn through the light air by her team of harnessed lions, she outcried: "O Turnus, with your sacrilegious hands you fling - in vain - those torches! I shall save these ships; I'll not permit the greedy flames to burn these pines - these parts, these very limbs - of my own forests."
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