With regard to amber, you doubtless share the
general belief in the story that poplars on the banks
of the river Eridanus shed tears of it in grief over ‘
Phaethon; and that these poplars are the sisters of
Phaethon, who out of sorrow for the boy were
changed into trees and still drip tears—of amber!
Such tales, when I heard them from the lips of the
poets, made me expect that if ever I got to the
Eridanus, by going underneath one of the poplars
and holding out a fold of my cloak I could supply
myself with amber by catching a few of their tears.