The Decij Marij great Camillus came From hence and greater Scipio's double Name And mighty Caesar whose victorious Arms To farthest Asia carry fierce Alarms Avert unwarlike Indians from his Rome Triumph abroad secure our Peace at home Hail sweet Saturnian Soil of fruitful Grain Great Parent greater of Illustrious Men. For thee my tuneful Accents will I raise And treat of Arts disclos'd in Ancient Days Once more unlock for thee the sacred Spring And old Ascraean Verse in Roman Cities sing The Nature of their sev'ral Soils now see Their Strength their Colour their Fertility And first for Heath and barren hilly Ground Where meagre Clay and flinty Stones abound Where the poor Soil all Succour seems to want Yet this suffices the Palladian Plant. Undoubted Signs of such a Soil are found For here wild Olive-shoots o'respread the ground And heaps of Berries strew the Fields around But where the Soil with fat'ning Moisture fill'd Is cloath'd with Grass and fruitful to be till'd Such as in chearful Vales we view from high Which dripping Rocks with rowling Streams supply And feed with Ooze where rising Hillocks run In length and open to the Southern Sun Where Fern succeeds ungrateful to the Plough That gentle ground to gen'rous Grapes allow Strong Stocks of Vines it will in time produce And overflow the Vats with friendly Juice Such as our Priests in golden Goblets pour To Gods the Givers of the chearful hour Then when the bloated Thuscan blows his Horn And reeking Entrails are in Chargers born If Herds or fleecy Flocks be more thy Care Or Goats that graze the Field and burn it bare Then seek Tarentum's Lawns and farthest Coast Or such a Field as hapless Mantua lost Where Silver Swans sail down the wat'ry Rode And graze the floating Herbage of the Flood There Crystal Streams perpetual tenour keep Nor Food nor Springs are wanting to thy Sheep For what the Day devours the nightly Dew Shall to the Morn in Perly Drops renew Fat crumbling Earth is fitter for the Plough Putrid and loose above and black below For Ploughing is an imitative Toil Resembling Nature in an easie Soil No Land for Seed like this no Fields afford So large an Income to the Village Lord No toiling Teams from Harvest-labour come So late at Night so heavy laden home The like of Forest Land is understood From whence the spleenful Ploughman grubs the Wood Which had for length of Ages idle stood Then Birds forsake the Ruines of their Seat And flying from their Nests their Callow Young forget The course lean Gravel on the Mountain sides Scarce dewy Bev'rage for the Bees provides Nor Chalk nor crumbling Stones the food of Snakes That work in hollow Earth their winding Tracts The Soil exhaling Clouds of subtile Dews Imbibing moisture which with ease she spews Which rusts not Iron and whose Mold is clean Well cloath'd with chearful Grass and ever green Is good for Olives and aspiring Vines Embracing Husband Elms in am'rous twines Is fit for feeding Cattle fit to sowe And equal to the Pasture and the Plough Such is the Soil of fat Campanian Fields Such large increase Vesuvian Nola yields And such a Country cou'd Acerra boast Till Clanius overflow'd th' unhappy Coast I teach thee next the diff'ring Soils to know The light for Vines the heavyer for the Plough Chuse first a place for such a purpose fit There dig the solid Earth and sink a Pit Next fill the hole with its own Earth agen And trample with thy Feet and tread it in Then if it rise not to the former height Of superfice conclude that Soil is light A proper Ground for Pasturage and Vines But if the sullen Earth so press'd repines Within its native Mansion to retire And stays without a heap of heavy Mire To George London of his ma ties Royall Garden in S t James ' s Park Gent. Geo 2 L 〈…〉 'T is good for Arable a Glebe that asks Tough Teams of Oxen and laborious Tasks Salt Earth and bitter are not fit to sow Nor will be tam'd or mended with the Plough Sweet Grapes degen'rate there and Fruits declin'd From their first flav'rous Taste renounce their Kind This Truth by sure Experiment is try'd For first an Ofier Colendar provide Of Twigs thick wrought such toiling Peasants twine When thro' streight Passages they strein their Wine In this close Vessel place that Earth accurs'd But fill'd brimful with wholsom Water first Then run it through the Drops will rope around And by the bitter Taste disclose the Ground The fatter Earth by handling we may find With Ease distinguish'd from the meagre Kind Poor Soil will crumble into Dust the Rich will to the Fingers cleave like clammy Pitch Moist Earth produces Corn and Grass but both Too rank and too luxuriant in their Growth Let not my Land so large a Promise boast Lest the lank Ears in length of Stem be lost The heavier Earth is by her Weight betray'd The lighter in the poising Hand is weigh'd 'T is easy to distinguish by the Sight The Colour of the Soil and black from white But the cold Ground is difficult to know Yet this the Plants that prosper there will show Black Ivy Pitch Trees and the baleful Yeugh These Rules consider'd well with early Care The Vineyard destin'd for thy Vines prepare But long before the Planting dig the Ground With Furrows deep that cast a rising Mound The Clods expos'd to Winter Winds will bake For putrid Earth will best in Vineyards take And hoary Frosts after the painful Toyl Of delving Hinds will rot the Mellow Soil Some Peasants not t' omit the nicest Care Of the same Soil their Nursery prepare With that of their Plantation lest the Tree Translated should not with the Soil agree Beside to plant it as it was they mark The Heav'ns four Quarters on the tender Bark And to the North or South restore the Side Which at their Birth did Heat or Cold abide So strong is Custom such Effects can Use In tender Souls of pliant Plants produce Chuse next a Province for thy Vineyards Reign On Hills above or in the lowly Plain If fertile Fields or Valleys be thy Choice Plant thick for bounteous Bacchus will rejoice In close Plantations there But if the Vine On rising Ground be plac'd or Hills supine Extend thy loose Battalions largely wide Opening thy Ranks and Files on either Side But marshall'd all in order as they Stand And let no Souldier straggle from his Band. As Legions in the Field their Front display To try the Fortune of some doubtful Day And move to meet their Foes with sober Pace Strict to their Figure tho' in wider Space Before the Battel joins while from afar The Field yet glitters with the Pomp of War And equal Mars like an impartial Lord Leaves all to Fortune and the dint of Sword So let thy Vines in Intervals be set But not their Rural Discipline forget Indulge their Width and add a roomy Space That
their extreamest Lines may scarce embrace Nor this alone t'indulge a vain Delight And make a pleasing Prospect for the Sight But for the Ground it self this only Way Can equal Vigour to the Plants convey Which crowded want the room their Branches to display How deep they must be planted woud'st thou know In shallow Furrows Vines securely grow Not so the rest of Plants for Joves own Tree That holds the Woods in awful Sov'raignty Requires a depth of Lodging in the Ground And next the lower Skies a Bed profound High as his topmost Boughs to Heav'n ascend So low his Roots to Hell's Dominion tend Therefore nor Winds nor Winters Rage o'rethrows His bulky Body but unmov'd he grows For length of Ages lasts his happy Reign And Lives of Mortal Man contend in vain Full in the midst of his own Strength he stands Stretching his brawny Arms and leafy Hands His Shade protects the Plains his Head the Hills commands The hurtful Hazle in thy Vineyard shun Nor plant it to receive the setting Sun Nor break the topmost Branches from the Tree Nor prune with blunted Knife the Progeny Root up wild Olives from thy labour'd Lands For sparkling Fire from Hinds unwary Hands Is often scatter'd o're their unctuous rinds And after spread abroad by raging Winds For first the smouldring Flame the Trunk receives Ascending thence it crackles in the Leaves At length victorious to the Top aspires Involving all the Wood with smoky Fires But most when driv'n by Winds the flaming Storm Of the long Files destroys the beauteous Form In Ashes then th' unhappy Vineyard lies Nor will the blasted Plants from Ruin rise Nor will the wither'd Stock be green again But the wild Olive shoots and shades th' ungrateful Plain Be not seduc'd with Wisdom's empty Shows To stir the peaceful Ground when Boreas blows When Winter Frosts constrain the Field with Cold The fainty Root can take no steady hold But when the Golden Spring reveals the Year And the white Bird returns whom Serpents fear That Season deem the best to plant thy Vines Next that is when Autumnal Warmth declines E're Heat is quite decay'd or Cold begun Or Capricorn admits the Winter Sun The Spring adorns the Woods renews the Leaves The Womb of Earth the genial Seed receives For then Almighty Jove descends and pours Into his buxom Bride his fruitful Show'rs And mixing his large Limbs with hers he feeds Her Births with kindly Juice and fosters teeming Seeds Then joyous Birds frequent the lonely Grove And Beasts by Nature stung renew their Love Then Fields the Blades of bury'd Corn disclose And while the balmy Western Spirit blows Earth to the Breath her Bosom dares expose With kindly Moisture then the Plants abound The Grass securely springs above the Ground The tender Twig shoots upward to the Skies And on the Faith of the new Sun relies The swerving Vines on the tall Elms prevail Unhurt by Southern Show'rs or Northern Hail They spread their Gems the genial Warmth to share And boldly trust their Buds in open Air. In this soft Season so sweet Poets sing The World was hatch'd by Heav'ns Imperial King In prime of all the Year and Holydays of Spring Earth knew no Season then but Spring alone On the moist Ground the Sun serenely shone Then Winter Winds their blustring Rage forbear And in a silent Pomp proceeds the mighty Year Sheep soon were sent to people flow'ry Fields And salvage Beasts were banish'd into Wilds Then Heav'n was lighted up with Stars and Man A hard relentless Race from Stones began Nor cou'd the tender new Creation bear Th' excessive Heats or Coldness of the Year But chill'd by Winter or by Summer fir'd The middle Temper of the Spring requir'd When Infant Nature was with Quiet crown'd And Heav'ns Indulgence brooded on the Ground For what remains in depth of Earth secure Thy cover'd Plants and dung with hot Manure And Shells and Gravel in the Ground inclose For thro' their hollow Chinks the Water flows Which thus imbib'd returns in misty Dews And steeming up the rising Plant renews Some Husbandmen of late have found the Way A hilly Heap of Stones above to lay And press the Plants with Sherds of Potters Clay This Fence against immod'rate Rain they found Or when the Dog-star cleaves the thirsty Ground Be mindful when thou hast intomb'd the Shoot With Store of Earth around to feed the Root With Iron Teeth of Rakes and Prongs to move The crusted Earth and loosen it above Then exercise thy strugling Steers to plough Betwixt thy Vines and teach thy feeble Row To mount on Reeds and Wands and upward led On Ashen Poles to raise their forky Head On these new Crutches let them learn to walk Till swerving upwards with a stronger Stalk They brave the Winds and clinging to their Gu On tops of Elms at length triumphant ride But in their tender Nonage while they spread Their Springing Leafs and lift their Infant Head And upward while they shoot in open Air Indulge their Child-hood and the Nurseling spare Nor exercise thy Rage on new-born Life But let thy Hand supply the Pruning-knife And crop luxuriant Straglers nor be loath To strip the Branches of their leafy Growth But when the rooted Vines with steady Hold Can clasp their Elms then Husbandman be bold To lop the disobedient Boughs that stray'd Beyond their Ranks let crooked Steel invade The lawless Troops which Discipline disclaim And their superfluous Growth with Rigour tame Next fenc'd with Hedges and deep Ditches round Exclude th' incroaching Cattle from thy Ground While yet the tender Gems but just appear Unable to sustain th' uncertain Year Whose Leaves are not alone foul Winter's Prey But oft by Summer Suns are scorch'd away And worse than both become th' unworthy Browze Of Buffal'os salt Goats and hungry Cows For not December's Frost that burns the Boughs Nor Dog-days parching Heat that splits the Rocks Are half so harmful as the greedy Flocks Their venom'd Bite and Scars indented on the Stocks To John Loving Esq of Little Ealing in the County of Middlesex Geor. 2. l. 530. For this the Malefactor Goat was laid On Bacchus's Altar and his forfeit paid At Athens thus old Comedy began When round the Streets the reeling Actors ran In Country Villages and crossing ways Contending for the Prizes of their Plays And glad with Bacchus on the grassie soil Leapt o're the Skins of Goats besmear'd with Oyl Thus Roman Youth deriv'd from ruin'd Troy In rude Saturnian Rhymes express their Joy With Taunts and Laughter loud their Audience please Deform'd with Vizards cut from Barks of Trees In jolly Hymns they praise the God of Wine Whose Earthen Images adorn the Pine And there are hung on high in honour of the Vine A madness so devout the Vineyards fills In hollow Valleys and on rising Hills On what e're side he turns his honest face And dances in the Wind those Fields are in his grace To Bacchus therefore let us tune
And slew with ease Then thus insults the slain Vain Hunter didst thou think thro' Woods to chase The Salvage Herd a vile and trembling Race Here cease thy Vaunts and own my Victory A Woman-Warrior was too strong for thee Yet if the Ghosts demand the Conqu'ror's Name Confessing great Camilla save thy Shame Then Butes and Orsilochus she slew The bulkiest Bodies of the Trojan Crew But Butes Breast to Breast the Spear descends Above the Gorget where his Helmet ends And o're the Shield which his left Side defends Orsilochus and she their Coursers ply He seems to follow and she seems to fly But in a narrower Ring she makes the Race And then he flies and she pursues the Chase Gath'ring at length on her deluded Foe She swings her Axe and rises to the Blow To the Right Hon ble William Berkley Baron Berkley of Stratton ct AE 11. l. 1035. Full on the Helm behind with such a sway The Weapon falls the riven Steel gives way He groans he roars he sues in vain for Grace Brains mingled with his Blood besmear his Face Astonish'd Aunus just arrives by Chance To see his Fall nor farther dares advance But fixing on the horrid Maid his Eye He stares and shakes and finds it vain to fly Yet like a true Ligurian born to cheat At least while Fortune favour'd his Deceit Cries out aloud what Courage have you shown Who trust your Coursers Strength and not your own Forego the vantage of your Horse alight And then on equal Terms begin the Fight It shall be seen weak Woman what you can When Foot to Foot you combat with a Man He said She glows with Anger and Disdain Dismounts with speed to dare him on the Plain And leaves her Horse at large among her Train With her drawn Sword defies him to the Field And marching lifts aloft her maiden Shield The Youth who thought his Cunning did succeed Reins round his Horse and urges all his Speed Adds the remembrance of the Spur and hides The goring Rowels in his bleeding Sides Vain Fool and Coward cries the lofty Maid Caught in the Train which thou thy self hast laid On others practise thy Ligurian Arts Thin Stratagems and Tricks of little Hearts Are lost on me Nor shalt thou safe retire With vaunting Lyes to thy fallacious Sire At this so fast her flying Feet she sped That soon she strain'd beyond his Horse's Head Then turning short at once she seiz'd the Rein And laid the Boaster grov'ling on the Plain Not with more ease the Falcon from above Trusses in middle Air the trembling Drove Then Plumes the Prey in her strong Pounces bound The Feathers foul with Blood come tumbling to the ground Now mighty Jove from his superior height With his broad Eye surveys th' unequal Fight He fires the Breast of Tarchon with Disdain And sends him to redeem th' abandon'd Plain Betwixt the broken Ranks the Tuscan rides And these encourages and those he chides Recalls each Leader by his Name from flight Renews their Ardour and restores the Fight What Panick Fear has seiz'd your Souls O shame O Brand perpetual of th' Etrurian Name Cowards incurable a Woman's Hand Drives breaks and scatters your ignoble Band Now cast away the Sword and quit the Shield What use of Weapons which you dare not wield Not thus you fly your Female Foes by Night Nor shun the Feast when the full Bowls invite When to fat Off'rings the glad Augur calls And the shrill Horn-pipe sounds to Bacchanals These are your study'd Cares your lewd Delight Swift to debauch but slow to Manly Fight Thus having said he spurs amid the Foes Not managing the Life he meant to lose The first he found he seiz'd with headlong haste In his strong Gripe and clasp'd around the Waste 'T was Venulus whom from his Horse he tore And laid athwart his own in Triumph bore Loud Shouts ensue The Latins turn their Eyes And view th' unusual sight with vast Surprize The fiery Tarchon flying o're the Plains Press'd in his Arms the pond'rous Prey sustains Then with his shorten'd Spear explores around His jointed Arms to fix a deadly Wound Nor less the Captive struggles for his Life He writhes his Body to prolong the Strife And fencing for his naked Throat exerts His utmost Vigour and the point averts So stoops the yellow Eagle from on high And bears a speckled Serpent thro' the Sky Fast'ning his crooked Tallons on the Prey The Pris'ner hisses thro' the liquid Way Resists the Royal Hawk and tho' opprest She fights in Volumes and erects her Crest Turn'd to her Foe she stiffens ev'ry Scale And shoots her forky Tongue and whisks her threat'ning Tail Against the Victour all Defence is weak Th' imperial Bird still plies her with his Beak He tears her Bowels and her Breast he gores Then claps his Pinions and securely soars Thus thro' the midst of circling Enemies Strong Tarchon snatch'd and bore away his Prize The Tyrrhene Troops that shrunk before now press The Latins and presume the like Success Then Aruns doom'd to Death his Arts assay'd To murther unespy'd the Volscian Maid This way and that his winding Course he bends And wheresoe're she turns her Steps attends When she retires victorious from the Chase He wheels about with Care and shifts his place When rushing on she seeks her Foes in Fight He keeps aloof but keeps her still in sight He threats and trembles trying ev'ry Way Unseen to kill and safely to betray Chloreus the Priest of Cybele from far Glitt'ring in Phrygian Arms amidst the War Was by the Virgin view'd The Steed he press'd Was proud with Trappings and his brawny Chest With Scales of guilded Brass was cover'd o're A Robe of Tyrian Dye the Rider wore With deadly Wounds he gaul'd the distant Eoe Gnossian his Shafts and Lycian was his Bow A Golden Helm his Front and head surrounds A guilded Quiver from his Shoulder sounds Gold weav'd with Linen on his Thighs he wore With Flowers of Needlework distinguish'd o're With Golden Buckles bound and gather'd up before Him the fierce Maid beheld with ardent Eyes Fond and Ambitious of so Rich a Prize Or that the Temple might his Trophees hold Or else to shine her self in Trojan Gold Blind in her haste she chases him alone And seeks his Life regardless of her own This lucky Moment the slye Traytor chose Then starting from his Ambush up he rose And threw but first to Heav'n address'd his Vows O Patron of Soractes high Abodes Phoebus the Ruling Pow'r among the Gods Whom first we serve whole Woods of unctuous Pine Are fell'd for thee and to thy Glory shine By thee protected with our naked Soles Thro' Flames unsing'd we march and tread the kindled Coals Give me propitious Pow'r to wash away The Stains of this dishonourable Day Nor Spoils nor Triumph from the Fact I claim But with my future Actions trust my Fame Let me by stealth this Female Plague o'recome And from the