14

A DISCOURSE

The consideration of this it was which- gave me the curiosity to fail'upon the examining of a collection I had made of several sorts of. earthsand soils, such as I could find about this territory, whereof some I. washed,to find by what would melt, reside, or pafs away in the percolation, ofwhat visible figure they chiefly seemed to consist,, armed as I was with

Th’ unfriendly cliffs, and unprolific ground,

Where clay jejune, and the cold flint abound/

Where bushes overspread the barren field,

Will best th’ unfading grove of Pallas yield:

Here the wild olive woods luxuriant shoot,

And all the plains are strewn with sylvan fruit, .

But the rich soil with genial force endu’d,:,

All green with grafs, with moisture sweet bedew’d,Such as we oft survey from cavern’d hills,

Whence many a stream descends in dripping rills,

And with rich ooze the fatt’ning valley fills ; _

Or that whjch feels the balmy southern air,

And feeds the fern unfriendly to the share;

Ere long will vines of lustiest growth produce,

And big with bounteous Bacchus’ choicest juice, ,

Will give the grape in solemn sacrifice,

Whose purple stream the golden goblet dyes,

When the fat Tuscan’s horn has call’d the god,

And the full chargers bend beneath the smoaking load.But bullocks would you rear, and herds of cows,

Or sheep, or goats that crop the budding boughs;

Seek rich Tarentum’s plains, a distant coast,

And fields like those my lucklefs Mantua lost,

His silver-pinion’d swans where M.incio feeds,

As slow they sail among the wat’ry weeds'.

There for thy flocks fresh- fountains -never-fail/Undying verdure clothes the grafsy vale ;

And.what is crop’d by day, the night renews,.Shedding refreshful stores of cooling dews.

A sable mould and fat beneath the share* .

That crumbles to the touch, of texture rare, .

And (what our art effects) by nature loose,

Will the best growth of foodful grain, produce: :

And from no field, beneath pale evening’s starWith heavier harvests fraught, returns the nodding car.-Or else the plain, from which the ploughman’s rageHas fell’d the forest, hoar through many an age^