He isgone on the mountain, He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was the sorest.

-Scott, Sir Walter
  The Lady of the Lake, canto 3, stanza16,'Coronach'.

   Like the dew on the mountain, Like the foam on the river, Like the bubble on the fountain, Thou art gone, and for ever!

-Scott, Sir Walter
  The Lady of the Lake, canto 3, stanza16,'Coronach'.

   He wakes or sleeps with the enduring dead; Thou canst not soar where he is sitting nowö Dust to the dust! but the pure spirit shall flow Back to the burning fountain whence it came, A portion of the Eternal.

-Shelley, Percy Bysshe
Adonais, stanza 38.

If thou shouldst never see my face again, Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of.Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.

-Tennyson
  Idylls of the King,'The Passing of Arthur', l.414^23.