Bkiii:Xiii O Fons Bandusiae

O Bandusian fountain, brighter than crystal, worthy of sweet wine, not lacking in flowers, tomorrow we’ll honour you with a kid, whose brow is budding with those horns that are destined for love and battle. All in vain: since this child of the playful herd will darken your ice-cool waters, with the stain of its crimson blood. The implacable hour of the blazing dog-star knows no way to touch you, you offer your lovely coolness to bullocks, weary of ploughing, and to wandering flocks. And you too will be one of the famous fountains, now I write of the holm oak that’s rooted above the cave in the rock where your clear babbling waters run down.