It was a little well under a stone wall, on the left side of the way.

It might be about two feet deep, was fenced with rude stones, and had a bottom of sand.
"There," said the lad, "is the fountain.

It is called the Fairies' Well, and contains the best water in Wales." I lay down and drank.

Oh, what water was that of the Fairies' Well! I drank and drank, and thought I could never drink enough of that delicious water; the lad all the time saying that I need not be afraid to drink, as the water of the Fairies' Well had never done harm to anybody.

At length I got up, and standing by the fountain repeated the lines of a bard on a spring, not of a Welsh but a Gaelic bard, which are perhaps the finest lines ever composed on the theme.