Bartholomäus Spranger, Salmacis and Hermaphroditus
“She scarce could bare to wait, hardly postpone her joy, she longed to embrace him, scarce contained her frenzied heart. He clapped his hollow palms against his sides and dived into the pool and, as he swam arm over arm, gleamed in the limpid water like, in a guarding dome of crystal glass, white lilies or a figure of ivory. I’ve won, he’s mine! she cried, and flung aside her clothes and plunged far out into the pool and grappled him and, as he struggled, forced her kisses, willy-nilly fondled him, caressed him; now on one side, now the other clung to him as he fought to escape her hold; and so at last entwined him, like a snake seized by the king of birds and borne aloft, which, as it hangs, coils round his head and claws and with its tail entwines his spreading wings.”
“Hermaphroditus fought back, denied the Nympha her joy; she strained the more; her clinging body seemed fixed fast to his. Fool, fight me as you will, she cried, You’ll not escape! Ye Gods ordain no day shall ever dawn to part us twain! Her prayer found gods to hear; both bodies merged in one, both blended in one form and face. As when a gardener sets a graft and sees growth seal the join and both mature together, thus, when in the fast embrace their limbs were knit, they two were two no more, nor man, nor woman — one body then that neither seemed and both.”
— Ovid, Metamorphoses 4.285