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Eugene Field - Echoes from the Sabine Farm
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TO THE FOUNTAIN OF BANDUSIA

O FOUNTAIN of Bandusia!	
  Whence crystal waters flow,	
With garlands gay and wine I ’ll pay	
  The sacrifice I owe;	
A sportive kid with budding horns	        
  I have, whose crimson blood	
Anon shall dye and sanctify	
  Thy cool and babbling flood.	
 
O fountain of Bandusia!	
  The Dog-star’s hateful spell	        
No evil brings into the springs	
  That from thy bosom well;	
Here oxen, wearied by the plow,	
  The roving cattle here	
Hasten in quest of certain rest,	        
  And quaff thy gracious cheer.	
 
O fountain of Bandusia!	
  Ennobled shalt thou be,	
For I shall sing the joys that spring	
  Beneath yon ilex-tree.	        
Yes, fountain of Bandusia,	
  Posterity shall know	
The cooling brooks that from thy nooks	
  Singing and dancing go.	
 
TO LEUCONÖE
I

WHAT end the gods may have ordained for me,	        
And what for thee,	
  Seek not to learn, Leuconöe,—we may not know.	
Chaldean tables cannot bring us rest.	
’T is for the best	
  To bear in patience what may come, or weal or woe.	        
 
If for more winters our poor lot is cast,	
Or this the last,	
  Which on the crumbling rocks has dashed Etruscan seas,	
Strain clear the wine; this life is short, at best.	
Take hope with zest,	        
  And, trusting not To-morrow, snatch To-day for ease!	
 
TO LEUCONÖE
II

SEEK not, Leuconöe, to know how long you ’re going to live yet,	
What boons the gods will yet withhold, or what they ’re going to give yet;	
For Jupiter will have his way, despite how much we worry:—	
Some will hang on for many a day, and some die in a hurry.	        
 
The wisest thing for you to do is to embark this diem	
Upon a merry escapade with some such bard as I am.	
And while we sport I ’ll reel you off such odes as shall surprise ye;	
To-morrow, when the headache comes,—well, then I ’ll satirize ye!
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