Classic Poem

Bandusian Spring, I've known thee long
And now at last I sing of thee;
Worthy of wine and flowers,
Brilliant as glass.

To-morrow shall a kid be thine,
His blood shall dye thy crystal stream;
On thee the dog-star's hour of rage
Shall lay no hand.

Thou givest freely of thy wealth
To all who seek thy cooling side;
The bull that's wearied of the plow,
The sheep that's strayed.

Thou too shalt rank with famous founts,
For I shall be thy laureate;
I will immortalize thy rocks,
Thy babbling streams.