Beside the water, where he stoop'd to drink,

  And dropt the knightly helmet, — to his cost,

  Sunk in the stream; and since he could not think

  Her to retrieve, who late his hopes had crossed.

  He, where the treasure fell, descends the brink

  Of that swift stream, and seeks the morion lost.

  But the casque lies so bedded in the sands,

  'Twill ask no light endeavour at his hands.