"Since you cannot be my wife," said he, "you shall assuredly be my
tree. I will wear you for my crown; I will decorate with you my
harp and my quiver; and when the great Roman conquerors lead up
the triumphal pomp to the Capitol, you shall be woven into wreaths
for their brows. And, as eternal youth is mine, you also shall be
always green, and your leaf know no decay." The nymph, now changed
into a Laurel tree, bowed its head in grateful acknowledgment.

That Apollo should be the god both of music and poetry will not
appear strange, but that medicine should also be assigned to his
province, may. The poet Armstrong, himself a physician, thus
accounts for it:

"Music exalts each joy, allays each grief,
Expels diseases, softens every pain;
And hence the wise of ancient days adored
One power of physic, melody, and song."

The story of Apollo and Daphne is often alluded to by the poets.
Waller applies it to the case of one whose amatory verses, though
they did not soften the heart of his mistress, yet won for the
poet wide-spread fame:

"Yet what he sung in his immortal strain,
Though unsuccessful, was not sung in vain.
All but the nymph that should redress his wrong,
Attend his passion and approve his song.
Like Phoebus thus, acquiring unsought praise,
He caught at love and filled his arms with bays."