ODE XIII. TO THE BANDUSIAN FOUNTAIN.
Horace
O thou fountain of Bandusia, clearer than glass, worthy of delicious
wine, not unadorned by flowers; to-morrow thou shalt be presented with a
kid, whose forehead, pouting with new horns, determines upon both love
and war in vain; for this offspring of the wanton flock shall tinge thy
cooling streams with scarlet blood. The severe season of the burning
dog-star cannot reach thee; thou affordest a refreshing coolness to the
oxen fatigued with the plough-share, and to the ranging flock. Thou also
shalt become one of the famous fountains, through my celebrating the oak
that covers the hollow rock, whence thy prattling rills descend with a
bound.
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