I.
A Philosopher once, to the mountain
Of Helicon came, to explore
The cause of the wonderful fountain
That gushed from its summit of yore.
II.
Disbelieving, until he had tried it,
That water the Fancy could raise,
Ere he tasted its freshness, he eyed it
With a most philosophical gaze.
III.
Then dipping his fore-finger in it,
He just wet the tip of his tongue;
He sipped and he sucked; in a minute
Beside it his full length he flung.
IV.
He swallowed his fill, O delicious!
Sure never was Chian like this!
He was drunk! yet the ass was ambitious
To find out the cause of his bliss.
V.
So he dug, all the morning, around it
With his long, philosophical paws;
Eureka! cried he; I have found it!
This black-looking root is the cause.