What Soil 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 wherewith to ease her Want. 
   What shou'd I more? Ev'n on the cliffy Height 
   Of Penmenmaur, and that Cloud-piercing Hill, 
   Plinlimmon, from afar the Traveller kens 
   Astonish'd, how the Goats their shrubby Brouze 
   Gnaw pendent; nor untrembling canst thou see, 
   How from a scraggy Rock, whose Prominence 
   Half overshades the Ocean, hardy Men, 
   Fearless of rending Winds, and dashing Waves, 
   Cut Sampire, to excite the squeamish Gust 
   Of pamper'd Luxury. Then, let thy Ground 
   Not lye unlabour'd; if the richest Stem 
   Refuse to thrive, yet who wou'd doubt to plant 
   Somewhat, that may to Human Use redound, 
   And Penury, the worst of Ills, remove? 
   There are, who, fondly studious of Increase, 
   Rich Foreign Mold on their ill-natur'd Land 
   Induce laborious, and with fatning Muck 
   Besmear the Roots; in vain! the nurseling Grove 
   Seems fair awhile, cherish'd with foster Earth: 
   But, when the alien Compost is exhaust, 
   It's native Poverty again prevails. 
   Tho' this Art fails, despond not; little Pains, 
   In a due Hour employ'd, great Profit yield. 
   Th' Industrious, when the Sun in Leo rides, 
   And darts his sultriest Beams, portending Drought, 
   Forgets not at the Foot of ev'ry Plant 
   To sink a circling Trench, and daily pour 
   A just Supply of alimental Streams, 
   Exhausted Sap recruiting; else, false Hopes 
   He cherishes, nor will his Fruit expect 
   Th' autumnal Season, but, in Summer's Pride, 
   When other Orchats smile, abortive fail. 
   Thus the great Light of Heav'n, that in his Course 
   Surveys and quickens all things, often proves 
   Noxious to planted Fields, and often Men 
   Perceive his Influence dire: sweltring they run 
   To Grots, and Caves, and the cool Umbrage seek 
   Of woven Arborets, and oft the Rills 
   Still streaming fresh revisit, to allay 
   Thirst inextinguishable: But if the Spring 
   Preceding shou'd be destitute of Rain, 
   Or Blast Septentrional with brushing Wings 
   Sweep up the smoaky Mists, and Vapours damp, 
   Then wo to Mortals! Titan then exerts 
   His Heat intense, and on our Vitals preys; 
   Then Maladies of various Kinds, and Names 
   Unknown, malignant Fevers, and that Foe 
   To blooming Beauty, which imprints the Face 
   Of fairest Nymph, and checks our growing Love, 
   Reign far and near; grim Death, in different Shapes, 
   Depopulates the Nations, thousands fall 
   His Victims, Youths, and Virgins, in their Flower, 
   Reluctant die, and sighing leave their Loves 
   Unfinish'd, by infectious Heav'n destroy'd. 
   Such Heats prevail'd, when fair Eliza, last 
   Of Winchcomb's Name (next Thee in Blood, and Worth, 
   O fairest St. John!) left this toilsome World 
   In Beauty's Prime, and sadden'd all the Year: 
   Nor cou'd her Virtues, nor repeated Vows 
   Of thousand Lovers, the relentless Hand 
   Of Death arrest; She with the Vulgar fell, 
   Only distinguish'd by this humble Verse. 
   But if it please the Sun's intemp'rate Force 
   To know, attend; whilst I of ancient Fame 
   The Annals trace, and image to thy Mind, 
   How our Fore-fathers, (luckless Men!) ingulft 
   By the wide yawning Earth, to Stygian Shades 
   Went quick, in one sad Sepulchre enclos'd. 
   In elder Days, e'er yet the Roman Bands 
   Victorious, this our Other World subdu'd, 
   A spacious City stood, with firmest Walls 
   Sure mounded, and with numerous Turrets crown'd, 
   Aerial Spires, and Citadels, the Seat 
   Of Kings, and Heroes resolute in War, 
   Fam'd Ariconium; uncontroul'd, and free, 
   'Till all-subduing Latian Arms prevail'd. 
   Then also, tho' to foreign Yoke submiss, 
   She undemolish'd stood, and even 'till now 
   Perhaps had stood, of ancient British Art 
   A pleasing Monument, not less admir'd 
   Than what from Attic, or Etruscan Hands 
   Arose; had not the Heav'nly Pow'rs averse 
   Decreed her final Doom: For now the Fields 
   Labour'd with Thirst, Aquarius had not shed 
   His wonted Show'rs, and Sirius parch'd with Heat 
   Solstitial the green Herb: Hence 'gan relax 
   The Ground's Contexture, hence Tartarean Dregs, 
   Sulphur, and nitrous Spume, enkindling fierce, 
   Bellow'd within their darksom Caves, by far 
   More dismal than the loud disploded Roar 
   Of brazen Enginry, that ceaseless storm 
   The Bastion of a well-built City, deem'd 
   Impregnable: Th' infernal Winds, 'till now 
   Closely imprison'd, by Titanian Warmth, 
   Dilating, and with unctuous Vapours fed, 
   Disdain'd their narrow Cells; and, their full Strength 
   Collecting, from beneath the solid Mass 
   Upheav'd, and all her Castles rooted deep 
   Shook from their lowest Seat; old Vaga's Stream, 
   Forc'd by the sudden Shock, her wonted Track 
   Forsook, and drew her humid Train aslope, 
   Crankling her Banks: And now the low'ring Sky, 
   And baleful Lightning, and the Thunder, Voice 
   Of angry Gods, that rattled solemn, dismaid 
   The sinking Hearts of Men. Where shou'd they turn 
   Distress'd? Whence seek for Aid? when from below 
   Hell threatens, and ev'n Fate supreme gives Signs 
   Of Wrath and Desolation? Vain were Vows, 
   And Plaints, and suppliant Hands, to Heav'n erect! 
   Yet some to Fanes repair'd, and humble Rites 
   Perform'd to Thor, and Woden, fabled Gods, 
   Who with their Vot'ries in one Ruin shar'd, 
   Crush'd, and o'erwhelm'd. Others, in frantick Mood, 
   Run howling thro' the Streets, their hideous Yells 
   Rend the dark Welkin; Horror stalks around, 
   Wild-staring, and, his sad Concomitant, 
   Despair, of abject Look: At ev'ry Gate 
   The thronging Populace with hasty Strides 
   Press furious, and, too eager of Escape, 
   Obstruct the easie Way; the rocking Town 
   Supplants their Footsteps; to, and fro, they reel 
   Astonish'd, as o'er-charg'd with Wine; when lo! 
   The Ground adust her riven Mouth disparts, 
   Horrible Chasm, profound! with swift Descent 
   Old Ariconium sinks, and all her Tribes, 
   Heroes, and Senators, down to the Realms 
   Of endless Night. Mean while, the loosen'd Winds 
   Infuriate, molten Rocks and flaming Globes 
   Hurl'd high above the Clouds; 'till, all their Force 
   Consum'd, her rav'nous Jaws th' Earth satiate clos'd. 
   Thus this fair City fell, of which the Name 
   Survives alone; nor is there found a Mark, 
   Whereby the curious Passenger may learn 
   Her ample Site, save Coins, and mould'ring Urns, 
   And huge unweildy Bones, lasting Remains 
   Of that Gigantic Race; which, as he breaks 
   The clotted Glebe, the Plowman haply finds, 
   Appall'd. Upon that treacherous Tract of Land, 
   She whilome stood; now Ceres, in her Prime, 
   Smiles fertile, and, with ruddiest Freight bedeckt, 
   The Apple-Tree, by our Fore-fathers Blood 
   Improv'd, that now recalls the devious Muse, 
   Urging her destin'd Labours to persue. 
   The Prudent will observe, what Passions reign 
   In various Plants (for not to Man alone, 
   But all the wide Creation, Nature gave 
   Love, and Aversion): Everlasting Hate 
   The Vine to Ivy bears, nor less abhors 
   The Coleworts Rankness; but, with amorous Twine, 
   Clasps the tall Elm: the Pæstan Rose unfolds 
   Her Bud, more lovely, near the fetid Leek, 
   (Crest of stout Britons,) and inhances thence 
   The Price of her celestial Scent: The Gourd, 
   And thirsty Cucumer, when they perceive 
   Th' approaching Olive, with Resentment fly 
   Her fatty Fibres, and with Tendrils creep 
   Diverse, detesting Contact; whilst the Fig 
   Contemns not Rue, nor Sage's humble Leaf, 
   Close neighbouring: The Herefordian Plant 
   Caresses freely the contiguous Peach, 
   Hazel, and weight-resisting Palm, and likes 
   T' approach the Quince, and th' Elder's pithy Stem; 
   Uneasie, seated by funereal Yeugh, 
   Or Walnut, (whose malignant Touch impairs 
   All generous Fruits), or near the bitter Dews 
   Of Cherries. Therefore, weigh the Habits well 
   Of Plants, how they associate best, nor let 
   Ill Neighbourhood corrupt thy hopeful Graffs. 
   Wouldst thou, thy Vats with gen'rous Juice should froth? 
   Respect thy Orchats; think not, that the Trees 
   Spontaneous will produce an wholsom Draught. 
   Let Art correct thy Breed; from Parent Bough 
   A Cyon meetly sever; after, force 
   A way into the Crabstock's close-wrought Grain 
   By Wedges, and within the living Wound 
   Enclose the Foster Twig; nor over-nice 
   Refuse with thy own Hands around to spread 
   The binding Clay: Ee'r-long their differing Veins 
   Unite, and kindly Nourishment convey 
   To the new Pupil; now he shoots his Arms 
   With quickest Growth; now shake the teeming Trunc, 
   Down rain th' impurpl'd Balls, ambrosial Fruit. 
   Whether the Wilding's Fibres are contriv'd 
   To draw th' Earth's purest Spirit, and resist 
   It's Feculence, which in more porous Stocks 
   Of Cyder-Plants finds Passage free, or else 
   The native Verjuice of the Crab, deriv'd 
   Thro' th' infix'd Graff, a grateful Mixture forms 
   Of tart and sweet; whatever be the Cause, 
   This doubtful Progeny by nicest Tastes 
   Expected best Acceptance finds, and pays 
   Largest Revenues to the Orchat-Lord. 
   Some think, the Quince and Apple wou'd combine 
   In happy Union; Others fitter deem 
   The Sloe-Stem bearing Sylvan Plums austere. 
   Who knows but Both may thrive? Howe'er, what loss 
   To try the Pow'rs of Both, and search how far 
   Two different Natures may concur to mix 
   In close Embraces, and strange Off-spring bear? 
   Thoul't find that Plants will frequent Changes try, 
   Undamag'd, and their marriageable Arms 
   Conjoin with others. So Silurian Plants 
   Admit the Peache's odoriferous Globe, 
   And Pears of sundry Forms; at diff'rent times 
   Adopted Plums will aliene Branches grace; 
   And Men have gather'd from the Hawthorn's Branch 
   Large Medlars, imitating regal Crowns. 
   Nor is it hard to beautifie each Month 
   With Files of particolour'd Fruits, that please 
   The Tongue, and View, at once. So Maro's Muse, 
   Thrice sacred Muse! commodious Precepts gives 
   Instructive to the Swains, not wholly bent 
   On what is gainful: Sometimes she diverts 
   From solid Counsels, shews the Force of Love 
   In savage Beasts; how Virgin Face divine 
  Attracts the hapless Youth thro' Storms, and Waves, 
   Alone, in deep of Night: Then she describes 
   The Scythian Winter, nor disdains to sing, 
   How under Ground the rude Riphæan Race 
   Mimic brisk Cyder with the Brakes Product wild; 
   Sloes pounded, Hips, and Servis' harshest Juice. 
   Let sage Experience teach thee all the Arts 
   Of Grafting, and In-Eyeing; when to lop 
   The flowing Branches; what Trees answer best 
   From Root, or Kernel: She will best the Hours 
   Of Harvest, and Seed-time declare; by Her 
   The diff'rent Qualities of things were found, 
   And secret Motions; how with heavy Bulk 
   Volatile Hermes, fluid and unmoist, 
   Mounts on the Wings of Air; to Her we owe 
   The Indian Weed, unknown to ancient Times, 
   Nature's choice Gift, whose acrimonious Fume 
   Extracts superfluous Juices, and refines 
   The Blood distemper'd from its noxious Salts; 
   Friend to the Spirits, which with Vapours bland 
   It gently mitigates, Companion fit 
   Of Pleasantry, and Wine; nor to the Bards 
   Unfriendly, when they to the vocal Shell 
   Warble melodious their well-labour'd Songs. 
   She found the polish'd Glass, whose small Convex 
   Enlarges to ten Millions of Degrees 
   The Mite, invisible else, of Nature's Hand 
   Least Animal; and shews, what Laws of Life 
   The Cheese-Inhabitants observe, and how 
   Fabrick their Mansions in the harden'd Milk, 
   Wonderful Artists! But the hidden Ways 
   Of Nature wouldst thou know? how first she frames 
   All things in Miniature? thy Specular Orb 
   Apply to well-dissected Kernels; lo! 
   Strange Forms arise, in each a little Plant 
   Unfolds its Boughs: observe the slender Threads 
   Of first-beginning Trees, their Roots, their Leaves, 
   In narrow Seeds describ'd; Thou'lt wond'ring say, 
   An inmate Orchat ev'ry Apple boasts. 
   Thus All things by Experience are display'd, 
   And Most improv'd. Then sedulously think 
   To meliorate thy Stock; no Way, or Rule 
   Be unassay'd; prevent the Morning Star 
   Assiduous, nor with the Western Sun 
   Surcease to work; lo! thoughtful of Thy Gain, 
   Not of my Own, I all the live-long Day 
   Consume in Meditation deep, recluse 
   From human Converse, nor, at shut of Eve, 
   Enjoy Repose; but oft at Midnight Lamp 
   Ply my brain-racking Studies, if by chance 
   Thee I may counsel right; and oft this Care 
   Disturbs me slumbring. Wilt thou then repine 
   To labour for thy Self? and rather chuse 
   To lye supinely, hoping, Heav'n will bless 
   Thy slighted Fruits, and give thee Bread unearn'd? 
   'Twill profit, when the Stork, sworn-Foe of Snakes, 
   Returns, to shew Compassion to thy Plants, 
   Fatigu'd with Breeding. Let the arched Knife 
   Well sharpen'd now assail the spreading Shades 
   Of Vegetables, and their thirsty Limbs 
   Dissever: for the genial Moisture, due 
   To Apples, otherwise mispends it self 
   In barren Twigs, and, for th' expected Crop, 
   Naught but vain Shoots, and empty Leaves abound. 
   When swelling Buds their od'rous Foliage shed, 
   And gently harden into Fruit, the Wise 
   Spare not the little Off-springs, if they grow 
   Redundant; but the thronging Clusters thin 
   By kind Avulsion: else, the starv'ling Brood, 
   Void of sufficient Sustenance, will yield 
   A slender Autumn; which the niggard Soul 
   Too late shall weep, and curse his thrifty Hand, 
   That would not timely ease the pond'rous Boughs. 
   It much conduces, all the Cares to know 
   Of Gard'ning, how to scare nocturnal Thieves, 
   And how the little Race of Birds, that hop 
   From Spray to Spray, scooping the costliest Fruit 
   Insatiate, undisturb'd. Priapus' Form 
   Avails but little; rather guard each Row 
   With the false Terrors of a breathless Kite. 
   This done, the timorous Flock with swiftest Wing 
   Scud thro' the Air; their Fancy represents 
   His mortal Talons, and his rav'nous Beak 
  Destructive; glad to shun his hostile Gripe, 
   They quit their Thefts, and unfrequent the Fields. 
   Besides, the filthy Swine will oft invade 
   Thy firm Inclosure, and with delving Snout 
   The rooted Forest undermine: forthwith 
   Alloo thy furious Mastiff, bid him vex 
   The noxious Herd, and print upon their Ears 
   A sad Memorial of their past Offence. 
   The flagrant Procyon will not fail to bring 
   Large Shoals of slow House-bearing Snails, that creep 
   O'er the ripe Fruitage, paring slimy Tracts 
   In the sleek Rinds, and unprest Cyder drink. 
   No Art averts this Pest; on Thee it lyes, 
   With Morning and with Evening Hand to rid 
   The preying Reptiles; nor, if wise, wilt thou 
   Decline this Labour, which it self rewards 
   With pleasing Gain, whilst the warm Limbec draws 
   Salubrious Waters from the nocent Brood. 
   Myriads of Wasps now also clustering hang, 
   And drain a spurious Honey from thy Groves, 
   Their Winter Food; tho' oft repulst, again 
   They rally, undismay'd: but Fraud with ease 
   Ensnares the noisom Swarms; let ev'ry Bough 
   Bear frequent Vials, pregnant with the Dregs 
   Of Moyle, or Mum, or Treacle's viscous Juice; 
   They, by th' alluring Odor drawn, in haste 
   Fly to the dulcet Cates, and crouding sip 
   Their palatable Bane; joyful thou'lt see 
   The clammy Surface all o'er-strown with Tribes 
   Of greedy Insects, that with fruitless Toil 
   Flap filmy Pennons oft, to extricate 
   Their Feet, in liquid Shackles bound, 'till Death 
   Bereave them of their worthless Souls: Such doom 
   Waits Luxury, and lawless Love of Gain! 
   Howe'er thou maist forbid external Force, 
   Intestine Evils will prevail; damp Airs, 
   And rainy Winters, to the Centre pierce 
   Of firmest Fruits, and by unseen Decay 
   The proper Relish vitiate: then the Grub 
   Oft unobserv'd invades the vital Core, 
   Pernicious Tenant, and her secret Cave 
   Enlarges hourly, preying on the Pulp 
   Ceaseless; mean while the Apple's outward Form 
   Delectable the witless Swain beguiles, 
   'Till, with a writhen Mouth, and spattering Noise, 
   He tastes the bitter Morsel, and rejects 
   Disrelisht; not with less Surprize, then when 
   Embattled Troops with flowing Banners pass 
   Thro' flow'ry Meads delighted, nor distrust 
   The smiling Surface; whilst the cavern'd Ground, 
   With Grain incentive stor'd, by suddain Blaze 
   Bursts fatal, and involves the Hopes of War 
   In firy Whirles; full of victorious Thoughts, 
   Torn and dismembred, they aloft expire. 
   Now turn thine Eye to view Alcinous' Groves, 
   The Pride of the Phæacian Isle, from whence, 
   Sailing the Spaces of the boundless Deep, 
   To Ariconium pretious Fruits arriv'd: 
   The Pippin burnisht o'er with Gold, the Moile 
   Of sweetest hony'd Taste, the fair Permain, 
   Temper'd, like comliest Nymph, with red and white. 
   Salopian Acres flourish with a Growth 
   Peculiar, styl'd the Ottley: Be thou first 
   This Apple to transplant; if to the Name 
   It's Merit answers, no where shalt thou find 
   A Wine more priz'd, or laudable of Taste. 
   Nor does the Eliot least deserve thy Care, 
   Nor John-Apple, whose wither'd Rind, entrencht 
   With many a Furrow, aptly represents 
   Decrepid Age; nor that from Harvey nam'd, 
   Quick-relishing: Why should we sing the Thrift, 
   Codling, or Pomroy, or of pimpled Coat 
   The Russet, or the Cats-Head's weighty Orb, 
   Enormous in its Growth; for various Use 
   Tho' these are meet, tho' after full repast 
   Are oft requir'd, and crown the rich Desert? 
   What, tho' the Pear-Tree rival not the Worth, 
   Of Ariconian Products? yet her Freight 
   Is not contemn'd, yet her wide-branching Arms 
   Best screen thy Mansion from the fervent Dog 
   Adverse to Life; the wintry Hurricanes 
   In vain imploy their Roar, her Trunc unmov'd 
   Breaks the strong Onset, and controls their Rage. 
   Chiefly the Bosbury, whose large Increase, 
   Annual, in sumptuous Banquets claims Applause. 
   Thrice acceptable Bev'rage! could but Art 
   Subdue the floating Lee, Pomona's self 
   Would dread thy Praise, and shun the dubious Strife. 
   Be it thy Choice, when Summer-Heats annoy, 
   To sit beneath her leafy Canopy, 
   Quaffing rich Liquids: Oh! how sweet t' enjoy, 
   At once her Fruits, and hospitable Shade! 
   But how with equal Numbers shall we match 
   The Musk's surpassing Worth! that earliest gives 
   Sure hopes of racy Wine, and in its Youth, 
   Its tender Nonage, loads the spreading Boughs 
   With large and juicy Off-spring, that defies 
   The Vernal Nippings, and cold Syderal Blasts! 
   Yet let her to the Read-streak yield, that once 
   Was of the Sylvan Kind, unciviliz'd, 
   Of no Regard, 'till Scudamore's skilful Hand 
   Improv'd her, and by courtly Discipline 
   Taught her the savage Nature to forget: 
   Hence styl'd the Scudamorean Plant; whose Wine 
   Who-ever tastes, let him with grateful Heart 
   Respect that ancient loyal House, and wish 
   The noble Peer, that now transcends our Hopes 
   In early Worth, his Country's justest Pride, 
   Uninterrupted Joy, and Health entire. 
   Let every Tree in every Garden own 
   The Red-streak as supream; whose pulpous Fruit 
   With Gold irradiate, and Vermilian shines 
   Tempting, not fatal, as the Birth of that 
   Primæval interdicted Plant, that won 
   Fond Eve in hapless Hour to taste, and die. 
   This, of more bounteous Influence, inspires 
   Poetic Raptures, and the lowly Muse 
   Kindles to loftier Strains; even I perceive 
   Her sacred Virtue. See! the Numbers flow 
   Easie, whilst, chear'd with her nectareous Juice, 
   Hers, and my Country's Praises I exalt. 
   Hail Herefordian Plant, that dost disdain 
   All other Fields! Heav'n's sweetest Blessing, hail! 
   Be thou the copious Matter of my Song, 
   And Thy choice Nectar; on which always waits 
   Laughter, and Sport, and care-beguiling Wit, 
   And Friendship, chief Delight of Human Life. 
   What shou'd we wish for more? or why, in quest 
   Of Foreign Vintage, insincere, and mixt, 
   Traverse th' extreamest World? Why tempt the Rage 
   Of the rough Ocean? when our native Glebe 
  Imparts, from bounteous Womb, annual Recruits 
  Of Wine delectable, that far surmounts 
   Gallic, or Latin Grapes, or those that see 
   The setting Sun near Calpe's tow'ring Height. 
   Nor let the Rhodian, nor the Lesbian Vines 
   Vaunt their rich Must, nor let Tokay contend 
   For Sov'ranty; Phanæus self must bow 
   To th' Ariconian Vales: And shall we doubt 
   T' improve our vegetable Wealth, or let 
   The Soil lye idle, which, with fit Manure, 
   Will largest Usury repay, alone 
   Impower'd to supply what Nature asks 
   Frugal, or what nice Appetite requires? 
   The Meadows here, with bat'ning Ooze enrich'd, 
  Give Spirit to the Grass; three Cubits high 
   The jointed Herbage shoots; th' unfallow'd Glebe 
   Yearly o'ercomes the Granaries with Store 
   Of Golden Wheat, the Strength of Human Life. 
   Lo, on auxiliary Poles, the Hops 
   Ascending spiral, rang'd in meet Array! 
   Lo, how the Arable with Barley-Grain 
   Stands thick, o'er-shadow'd, to the thirsty Hind 
   Transporting Prospect! These, as modern Use 
   Ordains, infus'd, an Auburn Drink compose, 
   Wholesome, of deathless Fame. Here, to the Sight, 
  Apples of Price, and plenteous Sheaves of Corn, 
   Oft interlac'd occurr, and both imbibe 
   Fitting congenial Juice; so rich the Soil, 
   So much does fructuous Moisture o'er-abound! 
   Nor are the Hills unamiable, whose Tops 
   To Heav'n aspire, affording Prospect sweet 
  To Human Ken; nor at their Feet the Vales 
   Descending gently, where the lowing Herd 
   Chews verd'rous Pasture; nor the yellow Fields 
   Gaily' enterchang'd, with rich Variety 
  Pleasing, as when an Emerald green, enchas'd 
  In flamy Gold, from the bright Mass acquires 
  A nobler Hue, more delicate to Sight. 
   Next add the Sylvan Shades, and silent Groves, 
   (Haunt of the Druids) whence the Hearth is fed 
   With copious Fuel; whence the sturdy Oak, 
   A Prince's Refuge once, th' æternal Guard 
   Of England's Throne, by sweating Peasants fell'd, 
   Stems the vast Main, and bears tremendous War 
   To distant Nations, or with Sov'ran Sway 
   Aws the divided World to Peace and Love. 
   Why shou'd the Chalybes, or Bilboa boast 
   Their harden'd Iron; when our Mines produce 
   As perfect Martial Ore? Can Tmolus' Head 
   Vie with our Safron Odours? Or the Fleece 
   Bætic, or finest Tarentine, compare 
   With Lemster's silken Wool? Where shall we find 
   Men more undaunted, for their Country's Weal 
   More prodigal of Life? In ancient Days, 
   The Roman Legions, and great Cæsar found 
   Our Fathers no mean Foes: And Cressy Plains, 
   And Agincourt, deep-ting'd with Blood, confess 
   What the Silures Vigour unwithstood 
   Cou'd do in rigid Fight; and chiefly what 
   Brydges' wide-wasting Hand, first Garter'd Knight, 
   Puissant Author of great Chandois' Stemm, 
   High Chandois, that transmits Paternal Worth, 
   Prudence, and ancient Prowess, and Renown, 
   T' his Noble Off-spring. O thrice happy Peer! 
   That, blest with hoary Vigour, view'st Thy self 
   Fresh blooming in Thy Generous Son; whose Lips, 
   Flowing with nervous Eloquence exact, 
   Charm the wise Senate, and Attention win 
   In deepest Councils: Ariconium pleas'd, 
   Him, as her chosen Worthy, first salutes. 
  Him on th' Iberian, on the Gallic Shore, 
  Him hardy Britons bless; His faithful Hand 
  Conveys new Courage from afar, nor more 
   The General's Conduct, than His Care avails. 
   Thee also, Glorious Branch of Cecil's Line, 
   This Country claims; with Pride and Joy to Thee 
   Thy Alterennis calls: yet she endures 
   Patient Thy Absence, since Thy prudent Choice 
   Has fix'd Thee in the Muse's fairest Seat, 
   Where Aldrich reigns, and from his endless Store 
   Of universal Knowledge still supplies 
   His noble Care; He generous Thoughts instills 
   Of true Nobility, their Country's Love, 
   (Chief End of Life) and forms their ductile Minds 
   To Human Virtues: By His Genius led, 
   Thou soon in every Art preeminent 
   Shalt grace this Isle, and rise to Burleigh's Fame. 
   Hail high-born Peer! And Thou, great Nurse of Arts, 
   And Men, from whence conspicuous Patriots spring, 
   Hanmer, and Bromley; Thou, to whom with due 
   Respect Wintonia bows, and joyful owns 
   Thy mitred Off-spring; be for ever blest 
   With like Examples, and to future Times 
   Proficuous, such a Race of Men produce, 
   As, in the Cause of Virtue firm, may fix 
   Her Throne inviolate. Hear, ye Gods, this Vow 
   From One, the meanest in her numerous Train; 
   Tho' meanest, not least studious of her Praise. 
   Muse, raise thy Voice to Beaufort's spotless Fame, 
   To Beaufort, in a long Descent deriv'd 
   From Royal Ancestry, of Kingly Rights 
   Faithful Asserters: In Him centring meet 
   Their glorious Virtues, high Desert from Pride 
   Disjoin'd, unshaken Honour, and Contempt 
   Of strong Allurements. O Illustrious Prince! 
   O Thou of ancient Faith! Exulting, Thee, 
   In her fair List this happy Land inrolls. 
   Who can refuse a Tributary Verse 
   To Weymouth, firmest Friend of slighted Worth 
   In evil Days? whose hospitable Gate, 
   Unbarr'd to All, invites a numerous Train 
   Of daily Guests; whose Board, with Plenty crown'd, 
   Revives the Feast-rites old: Mean while His Care 
   Forgets not the afflicted, but content 
   In Acts of secret Goodness, shuns the Praise, 
   That sure attends. Permit me, bounteous Lord, 
   To blazon what tho' hid will beauteous shine; 
   And with Thy Name to dignifie my Song. 
   But who is He, that on the winding Stream 
   Of Vaga first drew vital Breath, and now 
   Approv'd in Anna's secret Councils sits, 
   Weighing the Sum of Things, with wise Forecast 
  Sollicitous of public Good? How large 
   His Mind, that comprehends what-e'er was known 
   To Old, or Present Time; yet not elate, 
   Not conscious of its Skill? What Praise deserves 
   His liberal Hand, that gathers but to give, 
  Preventing Suit? O not unthankful Muse, 
   Him lowly reverence, that first deign'd to hear 
   Thy Pipe, and skreen'd thee from opprobrious Tongues. 
   Acknowledge thy Own Harley, and his Name 
   Inscribe on ev'ry Bark; the wounded Plants 
   Will fast increase, faster thy just Respect. 
   Such are our Heroes, by their Virtues known, 
   Or Skill in Peace, and War: Of softer Mold 
   The Female Sex, with sweet attractive Airs 
   Subdue obdurate Hearts. The Travellers oft, 
   That view their matchless Forms with transient Glance, 
   Catch suddain Love, and sigh for Nymphs unknown, 
   Smit with the Magic of their Eyes: nor hath 
   The Dædal Hand of Nature only pour'd 
   Her Gifts of outward Grace; their Innocence 
   Unfeign'd, and Virtue most engaging, free 
   From Pride, or Artifice, long Joys afford 
   To th' honest Nuptial Bed, and in the Wane 
   Of Life, rebate the Miseries of Age. 
   And is there found a Wretch, so base of Mind, 
   That Woman's pow'rful Beauty dares condemn, 
   Exactest Work of Heav'n? He ill deserves 
   Or Love, or Pity; friendless let him see 
   Uneasie, tedious Days, despis'd, forlorn, 
   As Stain of Human Race: But may the Man, 
   That chearfully recounts the Females Praise 
  Find equal Love, and Love's untainted Sweets 
   Enjoy with Honour. O, ye Gods! might I 
   Elect my Fate, my happiest Choice should be 
   A fair, and modest Virgin, that invites 
   With Aspect chast, forbidding loose Desire, 
   Tenderly smiling; in whose Heav'nly Eye 
   Sits purest Love enthron'd: But if the Stars 
   Malignant, these my better Hopes oppose, 
  May I, at least, the sacred Pleasures know 
   Of strictest Amity; nor ever want 
   A Friend, with whom I mutually may share 
   Gladness, and Anguish, by kind Intercourse 
   Of Speech, and Offices. May in my Mind, 
   Indelible a grateful Sense remain 
   Of Favours undeserv'd! - O Thou! from whom 
   Gladly both Rich, and Low seek Aid; most Wise 
   Interpreter of Right, whose gracious Voice 
   Breaths Equity, and curbs too rigid Law 
   With mild, impartial Reason; what Returns 
   Of Thanks are due to Thy Beneficence 
   Freely vouchsaft, when to the Gates of Death 
   I tended prone? If Thy indulgent Care 
   Had not preven'd, among unbody'd Shades 
   I now had wander'd; and these empty Thoughts 
   Of Apples perish'd: But, uprais'd by Thee, 
   I tune my Pipe afresh, each Night, and Day 
   Thy unexampled Goodness to extoll 
   Desirous; but nor Night, nor Day suffice 
   For that great Task; the highly Honour'd Name 
   Of Trevor must employ my willing Thoughts 
   Incessant, dwell for ever on my Tongue. 
   Let me be grateful, but let far from me 
   Be fawning Cringe, and false dissembling Look, 
   And servile Flattery, that harbours oft 
   In Courts, and gilded Roofs. Some loose the Bands 
   Of ancient Friendship, cancell Nature's Laws 
   For Pageantry, and tawdy Gugaws. Some 
   Renounce their Sires, oppose paternal Right 
   For Rule, and Power; and other's Realms invade, 
   With specious Shews of Love. This traiterous Wretch 
   Betrays his Sov'ran. Others, destitute 
   Of real Zeal, to ev'ry Altar bend, 
   By Lucre sway'd, and act the basest Things 
   To be styl'd Honourable: Th' Honest Man, 
   Simple of Heart, prefers inglorious Want 
   To ill-got Wealth; rather from Door to Door 
   A jocund Pilgrim, tho' distress'd, he' ll rove, 
   Than break his plighted Faith; nor Fear, nor Hope, 
   Will shock his stedfast Soul; rather debar'd 
   Each common Privilege, cut off from Hopes 
   Of meanest Gain, of present Goods despoil'd, 
  He'll bear the Marks of Infamy, contemn'd, 
   Unpity'd; yet his Mind, of Evil pure, 
   Supports him, and Intention free from Fraud. 
   If no Retinue with observant Eyes 
   Attend him, if he can't with Purple stain 
   Of cumbrous Vestments, labour'd o'er with Gold, 
   Dazle the Croud, and set them all agape; 
   Yet clad in homely Weeds, from Envy's Darts 
   Remote he lives, nor knows the nightly Pangs 
   Of Conscience, nor with Spectre's grisly Forms, 
   Dæmons, and injur'd Souls, at Close of Day 
   Annoy'd, sad interrupted Slumbers finds. 
   But (as a Child, whose inexperienc'd Age 
   Nor evil Purpose fears, nor knows,) enjoys 
   Night's sweet Refreshment, humid Sleep, sincere. 
   When Chaunticleer, with Clarion shrill, recalls 
   The tardy Day, he to his Labours hies 
   Gladsome, intent on somewhat that may ease 
   Unhealthy Mortals, and with curious Search 
   Examines all the Properties of Herbs, 
   Fossils, and Minerals, that th' embowell'd Earth 
   Displays, if by his Industry he can 
   Benefit Human Race: Or else his Thoughts 
   Are exercis'd with Speculations deep 
   Of Good, and Just, and Meet, and th' wholsome Rules 
   Of Temperance, and aught that may improve 
   The moral Life; not sedulous to rail, 
   Nor with envenom'd Tongue to blast the Fame 
   Of harmless Men, or secret Whispers spread, 
   'Mong faithful Friends, to breed Distrust, and Hate. 
   Studious of Virtue, he no Life observes 
   Except his own, his own employs his Cares, 
   Large Subject! that he labours to refine 
   Daily, nor of his little Stock denies 
   Fit Alms to Lazars, merciful, and meek. 
   Thus sacred Virgil liv'd, from courtly Vice, 
   And Baits of pompous Rome secure; at Court 
   Still thoughtful of the rural honest Life, 
   And how t' improve his Grounds, and how himself: 
   Best Poet! fit Exemplar for the Tribe 
   Of Phbus, nor less fit Mæonides, 
   Poor eyeless Pilgrim! and if after these, 
   If after these another I may name, 
   Thus tender Spencer liv'd, with mean Repast 
   Content, depress'd by Penury, and Pine 
   In foreign Realm: Yet not debas'd his Verse 
   By Fortune's Frowns. And had that Other Bard, 
   Oh, had but He that first ennobled Song 
   With holy Raptures, like his Abdiel been, 
   'Mong many faithless, strictly faithful found; 
   Unpity'd, he should not have wail'd his Orbs, 
   That roll'd in vain to find the piercing Ray, 
   And found no Dawn, by dim Suffusion veil'd! 
   But He - However, let the Muse abstain, 
   Nor blast his Fame, from whom she learnt to sing 
   In much inferior Strains, grov'ling beneath 
   Th' Olympian Hill, on Plains, and Vales intent, 
   Mean Follower. There let her rest a-while, 
   Pleas'd with the fragrant Walks, and cool Retreat.


 



