Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 1.pdf/292

134 How deep they must be planted, woud'st thou know? In shallow Furrows Vines securely grow. Not so the rest of Plants; for Jove's 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'erthrows 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'er 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,