So Ran the god and [Daphne],
one swift hope,
The other in terror, but he
ran more swiftly,
Borne on the wings of love,
gave her no rest,
Shadowed her shoulder,
breathed on her streaming hair
Her strength was gone, worn
out by the long effort
Of the long flight; she was
deathly pale, and seeing
The river of her father, cried
"O help me,
If there is any power in the
rivers,
Change and destroy the body
which has given
Too much delight!" And hardly
had she finished,
When her limbs grew numb
and heavy, her soft breasts
Were closed with delicate bark
her hair was leaves,
Her arms were branches, and
her speedy feet
Rooted and held, and her head
became a tree top,
Everything gone except her
grace, shining.

Ovid's "Metamorphoses," written in the late first century BC.