Odes 3.13 (Creech): O Fons Bandusiae

BLundusia's Spring more clear than Glass,
That bubbles thro the rising Grass:
Thee Wine should sweeten, Crowns adorn,
But now a wanton Ridgling dies
A Pious humble Sacrifice,
His flowing blood shall Paint the rising Morn:

With budding Horns He dares to fight;
His fury hastens to delight;
Courage with Love together grows:
In vain, in vain; His wanton Blood
Shall surely stain thy cooler Flood,
And pay the mighty Debt his Master owes:

The furious Dog-Stars burning Beams
In vain attempt thy living Streams,
In vain they strike thy Sacred Deep;
You yield delightful liquid Snow
To Oxen wearied with the Plow,
And cool the thirsty Heat of wandring Sleep:

You rankt shall be midst noble Springs,
And high in Fame, whilst Horace Sings,
The shady Beech that rising grows
Where, by great Neptune's Trident strook
A Passage opens thro the Rock
And whence thy prattling Stream of Water flows.