O fountain Bellerie
Fountain fair and dear
Of our nymphs, when your water
Hides them in the hollow of your spring
As they flee from the Satyr
Who pursues them in the hunt
Right to the edge of your stream,

You are the eternal nymph
Of my homeland
And so in this verdant meadow
Look on your poet who honours you
With a small suckling kid
With its two young horns
Newly sprung from its forehead.

In summer I sleep or lie down
On your bank, where I compose,
Hidden under your willows, some
Sort of verse to announce
Your glory throughout the universe,
Lodging it in memory
So that you will always live through my verse.

The heat of the dog-days
Burns not your green banks
Since in every part
You provide shade deep and dense
For the shepherds coming from the fields,
For the oxen freed from the plough,
And for our scattered livestock.

Lo, you will be unendingly 
Princess of fountains
As I celebrate the spring 
In the pierced rock, from which gush forth
With a hoarse sound
The chattering waters of your fount
Which splashing chase one another.