Bandusia! clearer than crystal
And worthy of wine and of flowers!
I will choose a kid from the younglings
Of my wanton flocks in thy honor;

Whose crest shows its first horns just budding,
To battles and love in vain destined:
For his red blood shed in thy service
Shall tinge thy cool streams on the morrow.

The fierce burning heat of the dog-star
Cannot touch the cool shade thou affordest
To the oxen weary with ploughing
And herds that are quietly grazing.

And famed shalt thou be among fountains,
When I sing of the oak that is planted
Mid the hollow rocks whence thy waters
Flow forth with continuous babbling.