Te flagrantis atrox hora caniculae
nescit tangere, tu frigus amabile
fessis vomere tauris
praebes et pecori vago.

Fies nobilium tu quoque fontium,
me dicente cavis impositam ilicem
saxis, unde loquaces
lymphae desiliunt tuae.

The heavy hour in the dog middays
can't even touch you; a fresh breath
you give to the wandering beasts
and the oxen, tired for the plough.

You'll be too among the most lovely springs
because of my words, singing an oak growing up
in the holes of the rocks; from where
your chatty brooks do come down .

(Horace)