- - - - - Honos erit huic quoq;波莫人吗?Virg。什么样的土壤the Apple loves, what Care is due To Orchats, timeliest when to press the Fruits, Thy Gift, Pomona, in Miltonian Verse Adventrous I presume to sing; of Verse Nor skill'd, nor studious: But my Native Soil Invites me, and the Theme as yet unsung. Ye Ariconian Knights, and fairest Dames, To whom propitious Heav'n these Blessings grants, Attend my Layes; nor hence disdain to learn, How Nature's Gifts may be improv'd by Art. And thou, O Mostyn, whose Benevolence, And Candor, oft experienc'd, Me vouchsaf'd To knit in Friendship, growing still with Years, Accept this Pledge of Gratitude and Love. May it a lasting Monument remain Of dear Respect; that, when this Body frail Is moulder'd into Dust, and I become As I had never been, late Times may know I once was blest in such a matchless Friend. Who-e'er expects his lab'ring Trees shou'd bend With Fruitage, and a kindly Harvest yield, Be this his first Concern; to find a Tract Impervious to the Winds, begirt with Hills, That intercept the Hyperborean Blasts Tempestuous, and cold Eurus nipping Force, Noxious to feeble Buds: But to the West Let him free Entrance grant, let Zephyrs bland Administer their tepid genial Airs; Naught fear he from the West, whose gentle Warmth Discloses well the Earth's all-teeming Womb, Invigorating tender Seeds; whose Breath Nurtures the Orange, and the Citron Groves, Hesperian Fruits, and wafts their Odours sweet Wide thro'the Air, and distant Shores perfumes. Nor only do the Hills exclude the Winds: But, when the blackning Clouds in sprinkling Show'rs Distill, from the high Summits down the Rain Runs trickling; with the fertile Moisture chear'd, The Orchats smile; joyous the Farmers see Their thriving Plants, and bless the heav'nly Dew. Next, let the Planter, with Discretion meet, The Force and Genius of each Soil explore; To what adapted, what it shuns averse: Without this necessary Care, in vain He hopes an Apple-Vintage, and invokes Pomona's Aid in vain. The miry Fields, Rejoycing in rich Mold, most ample Fruit Of beauteous Form produce; pleasing to Sight, But to the Tongue inelegant and flat. So Nature has decreed; so, oft we see Men passing fair, in outward Lineaments Elaborate; less, inwardly, exact. Nor from the sable Ground expect Success, Nor from cretaceous, stubborn and jejune: The Must, of pallid Hue, declares the Soil Devoid of Spirit; wretched He, that quaffs Such wheyish Liquors; oft with Colic Pangs, With pungent Colic Pangs distress'd, he'll roar, And toss, and turn, and curse th'unwholsome Draught. But, Farmer, look, where full-ear'd Sheaves of Rye Grow wavy on the Tilth, that Soil select For Apples; thence thy Industry shall gain Ten-fold Reward; thy Garners, thence with Store Surcharg'd, shall burst; thy Press with purest Juice Shall flow, which, in revolving Years, may try Thy feeble Feet, and bind thy fault'ring Tongue. Such is the Kentchurch, such Dantzeyan Ground, Such thine, O learned Brome, and Capel such, Willisian Burlton, much-lov'd Geers his Marsh, And Sutton-Acres, drench'd with Regal Blood Of Ethelbert, when to th'unhallow'd Feast Of Mercian Offa he invited came, To treat of Spousals: Long connubial Joys He promis'd to himself, allur'd by Fair Elfrida's Beauty; but deluded dy'd In height of Hopes -- Oh! hardest Fate, to fall By Shew of Friendship, and pretended Love! I nor advise, nor reprehend the Choice Of Marcley-Hill; the Apple no where finds A kinder Mold: Yet 'tis unsafe to trust Deceitful Ground: Who knows but that, once more, This Mount may journey, and, his present Site Forsaking, to thy Neighbours Bounds transfer The goodly Plants, affording Matter strange For Law-Debates? If, therefore, thou incline To deck this Rise with Fruits of various Tastes, Fail not by frequent Vows t'implore Success; Thus piteous Heav'n may fix the wand'ring Glebe. But if (for Nature doth not share alike Her Gifts) an happy Soil shou'd be with-held; If a penurious Clay shou'd be thy Lot, Or rough unweildy Earth, nor to the Plough, Nor to the Cattle kind, with sandy Stones And Gravel o'er-abounding, think it not Beneath thy Toil; the sturdy Pear-tree here Will rise luxuriant, and with toughest Root Pierce the obstructing Grit, and restive Marle. Thus naught is useless made; nor is there Land, But what, or of it self, or else compell'd, Affords Advantage. On the barren Heath The Shepherd tends his Flock, that daily crop Their verdant Dinner from the mossie Turf, Sufficient; after them the Cackling Goose, Close-grazer, finds where