To the Fountain of Bandusia

Translated from Horace OD. iii. 13.

Bandusia, stainless mirror of the sky!
Thine is the flower-crown'd bowl, for thee shall die,
   When dawns again yon sun, the kid;
   Whose budding horns, half-seen, half-hid,

Challenge to dalliance or to strife--in vain!
Soon must the hope of the wild herd be slain,
   And those cold springs of thine
   With blood incarnadine.

Fierce glows the Dog-star, but his fiery beam
Toucheth not thee:  still grateful thy cool stream
   To labour-wearied ox,
   Or wanderer from the flocks:

And henceforth thou shalt be a royal fountain:
My harp shall tell how from yon cavernous mountain,
   Topt by the brown oak-tree,
   Thou breakest babblingly.