Chapter V: Oh, Fons Bandusiæ, babbling spring,

From what deep wells come whispering!

What message bringest thou, what spells

From buried mountain oracles,

Thou limpid, lucid mystery?

Nay, this one thing I read in thee,

That saint or sinner, wise or fool,

Who dips hot lips within thy pool,

Or last or first, or best or worst,

Thou askest only that he thirst,

And givest water pure and cool.