For there is a bird which is named the phoenix. This, being the only one of its kind, lives five hundred years; and when it comes near to the dissolution of death, it makes for itself a nest of frankincense and myrrh and the other spices, into which, when the time is fulfilled, it enters and dies.
But as the flesh decays, a kind of worm is produced, which, being nourished from the moisture of the dead creature, grows wings; then, when it has become strong, it takes up that nest where the bones of the former bird are, and bearing these it makes its way from the land of Arabia as far as Egypt, to the city called Heliopolis.
And in the daytime, in the sight of all, it flies down upon the altar of the sun and lays them there, and so departs again to the place from which it came.