bottom a thick sediment of slime and mud; for so Apollo begged of
Jupiter, as a punishment to those who durst attempt to taste it
with unhallowed lips, and for a lesson to all not to draw too deep
or far from the spring.

At the fountain-head Wotton discerned two heroes; the one he could
not distinguish, but the other was soon known for Temple, general
of the allies to the Ancients. His back was turned, and he was
employed in drinking large draughts in his helmet from the
fountain, where he had withdrawn himself to rest from the toils of
the war. Wotton, observing him, with quaking knees and trembling
hands, spoke thus to himself: O that I could kill this destroyer
of our army, what renown should I purchase among the chiefs! but to
issue out against him, man against man, shield against shield, and
lance against lance, what Modern of us dare? for he fights like a
god, and Pallas or Apollo are ever at his elbow. But, O mother! if
what Fame reports be true, that I am the son of so great a goddess,
grant me to hit Temple with this lance, that the stroke may send
him to hell, and that I may return in safety and triumph, laden
with his spoils. The first part of this prayer the gods granted at
the intercession of his mother and of Momus; but the rest, by a
perverse wind sent from Fate, was scattered in the air. Then
Wotton grasped his lance, and, brandishing it thrice over his head,
darted it with all his might; the goddess, his mother, at the same
time adding strength to his arm. Away the lance went hizzing, and
reached even to the belt of the averted Ancient, upon which,
lightly grazing, it fell to the ground. Temple neither felt the
weapon touch him nor heard it fall: and Wotton might have escaped
to his army, with the honour of having remitted his lance against
so great a leader unrevenged; but Apollo, enraged that a javelin