Page:Cyder - a poem in two books (1708).djvu/11

4 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, Rh