Ovid, Metamorphoses 3. 138 ff (trans. Melville) (Roman epic C1st B.C. to C1st A.D.)
Hunting. "Upon a mountainside, whose woodland coverts were stained with many a kill of varied game, the shining noon had narrowed all the shade and midway at his zenith stood the sun. Then young Hyantius [Aktaion] was content; he called his comrades as they roamed the lonely woods : ‘Come friends, our nets are wet, our javelins drip with our quarries blood; today has brought success enough; tomorrow, when Aurora (the Dawn) [Eos] on saffron wheels leads on another day, we'll start our work again."