Od. Iii. 13. Bandusia, Stainless Mirror Of The Sky! Thine Is The Flower-Crown'D Bowl, For Thee Shall Die, When Dawns Again Yon Sun, The Kid; Whose Budding Horns, Half-Seen, Half-Hid, Challenge To Dalliance Or To Strife - In Vain! Soon Must The Hope Of The Wild Herd Be Slain, And Those Cold Springs Of Thine With Blood Incarnadine. Fierce Glows The Dog-Star, But His Fiery Beam Toucheth Not Thee: Still Grateful Thy Cool Stream To Labour-Wearied Ox, Or Wanderer From The Flocks: And Henceforth Thou Shalt Be A Royal Fountain: My Harp Shall Tell How From Yon Cavernous Mountain, Topt By The Brown Oak-Tree, Thou Breakest Babblingly.