“When in the shady Locrian grove Hesiod lay dead, the Nymphs
washed his body with water from their own springs, and
heaped high his grave; and thereon the goat-herds sprinkled
offerings of milk mingled with yellow-honey: such was the
utterance of the nine Muses that he breathed forth, that old
man who had tasted of their pure springs.”

Cf. Hesiod Home Page