The air his food, the hermit stood

Still as a pillar hewn from wood.

Around him in the summer days

Five mighty fires combined to blaze.

In floods of rain no veil was spread

Save clouds, to canopy his head.

In the dank dews both night and day

Couched in the stream the hermit lay.

Thus, till a thousand years had fled,

He plied his task of penance dread.