Page:Virgil - The Georgics, Thomas Nevile, 1767.djvu/55

 

The greazy soil this token will betray;
Squeez'd in the hand it crumbles not away,
But pitch-like clammy to the fingers clings:
In the moist ground rank grass luxuriant springs; 280
O! be not mine so fertile, nor appear
It's strength too forward in the early ear!
The heavy speaks itself, nor less the light:
Colours are all discernible at sight:
The cold soil shuns the search; unless the yew, 285
Fir, or black ivy point it to the view.

Regardful of these precepts, timely bake
Your ground, and trenches in the great hills make;
Ere the glad vine you plant, the glebe to bare,
And lay it leaning to the northern air. 290
To none yield lands, that boast a crumbling mould,
Effect of drying blasts, and frosty cold,
And of the drudging Digger's skilful pains;
They, to whose heed no task undone remains,
Rest not, till soils quite similar they see, 295
In one to rear, in one transplant the tree,
Lest a strange parent the new nursling find:
Yet more, they print the aspect on the rind,
To each it's former station to restore;
Mark, on what side the southern heats it bore, 300

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