'The name of those fabulous animals (pagan, I regret to say) who used to sing in the water, has quite escaped me.'Mr George Chuzzlewit suggested 'Swans'.'No,'said Mr Pecksniff.'Not swans.Very like swans, too. Thank you.' The nephew†propounded 'Oysters'.'No,'said Mr Picksniff†'nor oysters.But by no means unlike oysters† Wait! Sirens. Dear me! sirens, of course.'

-Dickens, CharlesJohn Huffam
^4  Martin Chuzzlewit, ch.4.

The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending we lay waste our powers: Little we see in nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! The sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not.öGreat God! I'd rather be A pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathe'  d horn.

-Wordsworth,William
  'The world is too much with us; late and soon', complete poem (published1807).