I know not if you recollect; of him I speak, whose story I erewhile suspended, Ancient of visage, and so swift of limb, That faster far than forest stag he wended.
With names he filled his mantle to the brim, Aye thinned the pile, but ne'er his labour ended;
And in that stream, hight Lethe, next bestowed, Yea, rather cast away, his costly load.