But ever as he shot his arrows still
In their mid course dropt down into the rill.
Of wondrous virtues that in waters been
Is needlesse to rehearse, all books do ring
Of those strange rarities. But ne’re was seen
Such virtue as resided in this spring.
The novelty did make me much admire
But stirr’d the hasty youth to ragefull ire.
As heedlesse fowls that take their per’lous flight
Over that bane of birds, Averno lake,