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THE

HOP-GARDEN.

A GEORGIC.

IN TWO BOOKS.

Me quoque Parnassi per lubicra culmina raptat

Laudis amor: studium sequor insanabile vatis,
Ausus non operam, non formidare poetæ
Nomen, adoratum quondam, nunc pæne procaci
Monstratum digito.- VAN. PRED. RUSг.

BOOK THE FIRST.

THE land that answers best the farmer's care,
And silvers to maturity the hop:

When to inhume the plants; to turn the glebe;
And wed the tendrils to th' aspiring poles :
Under what sign to pluck the crop, and how
To cure, and in capacious sacks infold,
I teach in verse Miltonian. Smile the Muse,
And meditate an honour to that land
Where first I breath'd, and struggled into life,
Impatient, Cantium, to be call'd thy son.

Oh! cou'd I emulate skilled Sydney's Muse, Thy Sydney, Cantium-He, from court retir'd, Penshurst's sweet Elysium sung delight, Sung transport to the soft-responding streams of Medway, and enliven'd all her groves: While ever near him, goddess of the green,, Fair Pembroke sat and smil'd immense plause.

ap

With vocal fascination charm'd the hours',
Unguarded left Heav'n's adamantine gate,
And to his lyre, swift as the winged sounds
That skim the air, danc'd unperceiv'd away.
Had I such pow'r, no peasants humble toil
Shou'd e'er debase my lay: far nobler themes,
The high achievements of thy warrior kings
Shou'd raise my thoughts, and dignify my song.
But I, young rustic, dare not leave my cot,
For so enlarg'd a sphere-ah! Muse beware,
Lest the loud larums of the braying trump,
Lest the deep drum shou'd drown thy tender
reed,

And mar its puny joints: me, lowly swain,
Every unshaven arboret, me the lawns,
Me the voluminous Medway's silver wave,
Content inglorious3, and the hopland shades!
Yeomen and countrymen, attend my song:
Whether you shiver in the marshy Weald,
Egregious shepherds of unnumber'd flocks,
Whose fleeces, poison'd into purple, deck
All Europe's kings: or in fair Madum's vale

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Imparadis'd, blest denizons, ye dwell;

6

Or Dorovernia's awful tow'rs ye love:
Or plough Tunbridgia's salutiferou hills
Industrious, and with draughts chalybiate heal'd,
Confess divine Hygeia's blissful seat;

The Muse demands your presence, ere she tune
Her monitory voice; observe her well,
And catch the wholesome dictates as they fall.
'Midst thy paternal acres, farmer, say
Has gracious Heav'n bestow'd one field, that
basks

Its loamy bosom in the mid-day Sun,
Emerging gently from the abject vale,
Nor yet obnoxious to the wind, secure
There shalt thou plant thy hop. This soil, per-
[haps,

Thou'lt say, will fill my garners. Be it so.
But Ceres, rural goddess, at the best
Meanly supports her vot'ry', enough for her,
If ill-persuading hunger she repell,
And keep the soul from fainting: to enlarge,
To glad the heart, to sublimate the mind,
And wing the flagging spirits to the sky,
Require th' united influence and aid
Of Bacchus, god of hops, with Ceres join'd.
'Tis he shall generate the buxom beer.
Theu on one pedestal, and hand in hand,
Sculptur'd in Parian stone (so gratitude
Indites) let the divine co-partners rise.
Stands eastward in thy field a wood? tis well.
Esteem it as a bulwark of thy wealth,
And cherish all its branches; tho' we'll grant,
Its leaves umbrageous may intercept
The morning rays, and envy some small share
Of Sol's beneficence to th' infant germ.

Yet grudge not that: when whistling Eurus comes,
With all his worlds of insects in thy lands

To hyemate, and monarchize o'er all
Thy vegetable riches, then thy wood
Shall ope it's arms expansive, and embrace
The storm reluctant, and divert its rage.
Armies of animalcules urge their way
In vain: the ventilating trees oppose
Their airy march. They blacken distant plains.
This site for thy young nursery obtain'd,
Thou hast begun auspicious, if the soil
(As sung before) be loamy; this the hop
Loves above others, this is rich, is deep,
Is viscous, and tenacious of the pole.
Yet maugre all its native worth, it may
Be meliorated with warm compost. See!
Yon craggy mountain, whose fastidious head
Divides the star-set hemisphere above,
And Cantium's plains beneath; the Apennine
Of a free Italy, whose chalky sides
With verdant shrubs dissimilarly gay,
Still captivate the eye, while at his feet
The silver Medway glides, and in her breast
Views the reflected landscape, charm'd she views
And murmurs louder ecstasy below.
Here let us rest a while, pleas'd to behold
Th' all beautiful horizon's wide expanse,
Far as the eagle's ken. Here tow'ring spires
First catch the eye, and turn the thoughts to
Heav'n.

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The lofty elms in humble majesty
Bend with the breeze to shade the solemn groves,
And spread an holy darkness; Ceres there
Shines in her golden vesture. Here the meads
Enrich'd by Flora's dædal hand, with pride
Expose their spotted verdure. Nor are you,
Pomona, absent; you 'midst hoary leaves
Swell the vermilion cherry; and on you trees
Suspend the pippin's palatable gold.
There old Sylvanus in that moss-grown grot
Dwells with his wood-nymphs: they with chap-
lets green

And russet mantles oft bedight, aloft
From yon bent oaks, in Medway's bosom fair
Wonder at silver bleak, and prickly pearch,
That swiftly thro' their floating forests glide.
Yet not even these these ever varied scenes
Of wealth and pleasure can engage my eyes
To'erlook the lowly hawthorn, if from thence
The thrush, sweet warbler, chants th' unstudied
lays

Which Phoebus' self, vaulting from yonder cloud
Refulgent, with enliv'ning ray inspires.
But neither tow'ring spires, nor lofty elms,
Nor golden Ceres, nor the meadows green,
Nor orchats, nor the russet mantled nymphs
Which to the murmurs of the Medway dance,
Nor sweetly warbling thrush, with half those
charms

Attract my eyes, as yonder hop-land close,
Joint-work of Art and Nature, which reminds
The Muse, and to her theme the wand'rer calls.
Here then with pond'rous vehicles and teams
Thy rustics send, and from the caverns deep
Command them bring the chalk: thence to the
kiln

Convey, and temper with Vulcanian fires.
Soon as 'tis form'd, thy lime with bounteous hand
O'er all thy lands disseminate; thy lands
Which first have felt the softening spade, and
drank

The strength'ning vapours from nutritious marl.
This done, select the choicest hop, t' insert
Fresh in the opening glebe. Say then, my Muse,
Its various kinds, and from th' effete and vile,
The eligible separate with care.

The noblest species is by Kentish wights
The Master-hop yclep'd. Nature to him
Has giv'n a stouter stalk, patient of cold,
Or Phœbus ev'n in youth, his verdant blood
In brisk saltation circulates and flows
Indesinently vigorous: the next
Is arid, fetid, infecund, and gross,
Significantly styl'd the Fryar: the last
Is call'd the Savage, who in ev'ry wood,
And ev'ry hedge unintroduc'd intrudes.
When such the merit of the candidates,
Easy is the election; but, my friend,
Would'st thou ne'er fail, to Kent direct thy way,
Where no one shall be frustrated that seeks
Ought that is great or good. Hail, Cantium,
hail!

Illustrious parent of the finest fruits8,

Salve magna parens frugum, Saturnia tellus Magna virum; tibi res antiquæ laudis & artis Ingredior, sanctos ausus recludere fontes, Ascræumque cano Romana per oppida carmen. VIRG. GEORG. 2

Illustrious parent of the best of men!
For thee Antiquity's thrice sacred springs
Placidly stagnant at their fountain head,
I rashly dare to trouble (if from thence
I aught for thy utility can drain)

And in thy towns adopt th' Ascræan muse.
Hail heroes, hail invaluable gems,
Fav'rites of Heav'n! to whom the general doom
Is all remitted, who alone possess

Of Adam's sons fair Eden-rest ye here,
Nor seek an earthly good above the hop;
A good! untasted by your ancient kings,
And to your very sires almost unknown.

In those blest days when great Eliza reign'd
O'er the adoring nation, when fair peace
Or spread an unstain'd olive round the land,
Or laurell'd war did teach our winged fleets
To lord it o'er the world, when our brave sires
Drank valour from uncauponated beer;
The hop (before an interdicted plant,
Shun'd like fell aconite) began to hang
Its folded floscles from the golden vine,
And bloom'd a shade to Cantium's sunny shores
Delightsome, and in cheerful goblets laught
Potent, what time Aquarius' urn impends
To kill the dulsome day-potent to quench
The Syrian ardour, and autumnal ills
To heal with mild potations; sweeter far
Than those which erst the subtile Hengist mix'd
Tinthrall voluptuous Vortigern. He, with love
Emasculate and wine, the toils of war
Neglected, and to dalliance vile and sloth
Emancipated, saw th' incroaching Saxons
With unaffected eyes; his hand which ought
T have shook the spear of justice, soft and
smooth,

Play'd ravishing divisions on the lyre:
This Hengist mark'd, and (for curs'd insolence
Soon fattens on impunity! and rises
Briareus from a dwarf) fair Thanet gain'd.
Nor stopt he here; but to immense attempts
Ambition sky-aspiring led him on
Adventrous. He an only daughter rear'd,
Roxena, matchless maid! nor rear'd in vain.
Her eagle-ey'd callidity, deceit,

And fairy fiction rais'd above her sex,
And furnish'd with a thousand various wiles
Preposterous, more than female; wondrous fair
She was, and docile, which her pious nurse
Observ'd, and early in each female fraud
Her 'gan initiate: well she knew to smile,
Whene'er vexation gall'd her; did she weep?
'Twas not sincere, the fountains of her eyes
Play'd artificial streams, yet so well forc'd
They look'd like nature; for ev'n art to her
Was natural, and contrarieties

Seem'd in Roxena congruous and allied.
Such was she, when brisk Vortigern beheld,
Ill-fated prince! and lov'd her. She perceiv'd,
Soon she perceiv'd her conquest; soon she told,
With hasty joy transported, her old sire.
The Saxon inly smil'd, and to his isle
The willing prince invited, but first bad
The nymph prepare the potions; such as fire
The blood's meandering rivulets, and depress

See the following story told at large in Lambarde's Peranıbulation of Kent.

To love the soul. Lo! at the moon of night
Thrice Hecate invok'd the maid-and thrice
The goddess stoop'd assent; forth from a cloud
These in a splendid cup of burnish'd gold
She stoop'd, and gave the filters power to charm.
The lovely sorceress mix'd, and to the prince
Health, peace and joy propin'd, but to herself
Mutter'd dire exorcisms, and wish'd effect
To th' love-creating draught: lowly she bow'd
Fawning insinuation blard, that might
Deceive Laertes' son; her lucid orbs
Shed copiously the oblique rays; her face
Like modest Luna's shone, but not so pale,
And with no borrow'd lustre; on her brow
Smil'd fallacy, while summoning each grace,
Kneeling she gave the cup. The prince (for

who!

Who cou'd have spurn'd a suppliant so divine?)
Drank eager, and in ecstacy devour'd
Th' ambrosial perturbation; mad with love
He clasp'd her, and in hymeneal bands
At once the nymph demanded and obtain'd.
Now Hengist, all his ample wish fulfill'd,
Exulted; and from Kent th' uxorious prince
Exterminated, and usurp'd his seat.
Long did he reign; but all-devouring time
Has raz'd his palace walls-Perchance on them
Grows the green hop, and o'er his crumbled bust
In spiral twines ascends the scantile pole.-
But now to plant, to dig, to dung, to weed;
Tasks humble, but important, ask the Muse.

Come, fair magician, sportive Fancy, come, With wildest imagery; thou child of thought, From thy aerial citadel descend,

And (for thou canst) assist me. Bring with thee

Thy all-creative talisman; with thee
The active spirits ideal, tow'ring flights,
That hover o'er the muse-resounding groves,
And all thy colourings, all thy shapes display.
Thou too be here, Experience, so shall I
My rules nor in low prose jejunely say,
Nor in smooth numbers musically err;
But vain is Fancy and Experience vain,
If thou, O Hesiod! Virgil of our land,
Or hear'st thou rather', Milton, bard divine,
Whose greatness who shalt imitate, save thee?
If thou, O Philips", fav'ring dost not hear
Me, inexpert of verse; with gentle hand
Uprear the unpinion'd Muse, high on the top
Of that immeasurable mount, that far
Exceeds thine own Plinlimmon, where thou tun'st
With Phoebus' self thy lyre. Give me to turn
Th' unwieldy subject with thy graceful ease,
Extol its baseness with thy art; but chief
Illumine, and invigorate with thy fire.

When Phoebus looks thro' Aries on the spring,
And vernal flow'rs teem with the dulcet fruit,
Autumnal pride! delay not then thy sets
In Tellus' facile bosom to depose

:

Timely if thou art wise the bulkiest chuse :
To every root three joints indulge, and forin
The quincunx with well regulated hills.
Soon from the dung-enriched earth, their heads

10 At ipse
Subtilis Veterum judex & callidus audis.
HORAT.
Mr. John Philips, author of Cider, a poem.

Thy young plants will uplift, their virgin anıms They'll stretch, and, marriageable, claim the pole.

Nor frustrate thou their wishes, so thou may'st-
Expect an hopeful issue, jolly Mirth,
Sister of taleful Momus, tuneful Song,
And fat Good-nature with her honest face.
But yet in the novitiate of their love,
And tenderness of youth suffice small shoots
Cut from the widow'd willow, nor provide
Poles insurmountable as yet. 'Tis then
When twice bright Phoebus' vivifying ray,
Twice the cold touch of winter's icy hand,
They've felt; 'tis then we feel sublimer props.
'Tis then the sturdy woodman's axe from far
Resounds, resounds, and hark! with hollow

groans

Down tumble the big trees, and rushing roll O'er the crush'd crackling brake, while in his

cave

Forlorn, dejected, 'midst the weeping Dryads
Laments Sylvanus for his verdant care.
The ash or willow for thy use select,
Or storm enduring chesnut; but the oak,
Unfit for this employ, for nobler ends
Reserve untouch'd; she when by time matur'd,
Capacious of some British demi-god,
Vernon, or Warren, shall with rapid wing
Infuriate, like Jove's armour-bearing bird,
Fly on thy foes; they, like the parted waves,
Which to the brazen beak murmuring give way
Amaz'd and roaring from the fight recede.-
In that sweet month, when to the list'ning swains
Fair Philomel sings love, and every cot
With garlands blooms bedight, with bandage

meet

The tendrils bind, and to the tall poll tie,
Else soon, too soon their meretricious arms
Round each ignoble clod they'll fold, and leave
Averse the lordly prop. Thus, have I heard
Where there's no mutual tic, no strong connec
tion

Of love-conspiring hearts, oft the young bride
Has prostituted to her slaves her charms,
While the infatuated lord admires
Fresh-butting sprouts', and issue not his own.
Now turn the glebe: soon with correcting hand,
When smiling June in jocund dance leads on
Long days and happy hours, from ev'ry vine
Dock the redundant branches, and once more
With the sharp spade thy numerous acres till.
The shovel next must lend its aid, enlarge
The little hillocks, and erase the weeds.
This in that month its title which derives
From great Augustus' ever sacred name!
Sovereign of science! master of the Muse!
Neglected genius' firm ally! of worth

Best judge, and best rewarder, whose applause
To bards was fame and fortune! O! 'twas well,
Well did you too in this, all glorious heroes!
Ye Romans!-on Time'swing you've stamp'd his
praise,

And time shall bear it to eternity.

Now are our labours crown'd with their reward, Now bloom the florid hops, and in the stream Shine in their floating silver, while above

1 Miraturque novas frondes, & non sua poma. VIRG

Tembow'ring branches culminate, and form
A walk impervious to the Sun; the poles
In comely order stand; and while you cleave
With the small skiff the Medway's lucid wave,
In comely order still their ranks preserve,
And seem to march along th' extensive plain.
In neat arrangement thus the men of Kent,
With native oak at once adorn'd and arm'd,
Intrepid march'd; for well they knew the cries
Of dying Freedom, and Astræa's voice,
Who as she fled, to echoing woods complain'd
Of tyranny, and William; like a god,
Refulgent stood the conqueror, on his troops
He sent his looks enliv'ning as the Sun's,
But on his foes frown'd agony, and death.
On his left side in bright emblazonry
His falchion burn'd; forth from his sevenfold shield
A basilisk shot adamant; his bow
Wore clouds of fury!-on that with plumage
crown'd

Of various hue sat a tremendous cone:
Thus sits high-canopied above the clouds,
Terrific beauty of nocturnal skies,

Northern Aurora'3; she thro' th' azure air
Shoots, shoots her trem'lous rays in painted

streaks

Continual, while waving to the wind

O'er Night's dark veil her lucid tresses flow.
The trav❜ler views th' unseemly day
Astound, the proud bend lowly to the earth,
The pious matrons tremble for the world.
But what can daunt th' insuperable souls
Of Cantium's matchless sons? On they proceed,
All innocent of fear; each face express'd
Contemptuous admiration, while they view'd
The well fed brigades of embroider'd slaves
That drew the sword for gain. First of the van,
With an enormous bough, a shepherd swain
Whistled with rustic notes; but such as show'd
A heart magnanimous: the men of Kent
Follow the tuneful swain, while o'er their heads
The green leaves whisper, and the big boughs
bend.

'Twas thus the Thracian, whose-all quick'ning lyre
The floods inspir'd, and taught the rocks to feel,
Enchanted dancing Hamus, to the tune, [wave,
The lute's soft tune! The fluttering brauches
The rocks enjoy it, and the rivulets hear,
The hillocks skip, emerge the humble vales,
And all the mighty mountain nods applause.
The conqueror view'd them. and as one that sees
The vast abrupt of Scylla, or as one
That from th' oblivious streams of Lethe's pool
Has drank eternal apathy, he stood.
His host an universal panic seiz'd
Prodigious, inopine; their armour shook,
And clatter'd to the trembling of their limbs;
Some to the walking wilderness gan run
Confus'd, and in th' inhospitable shade

Joyous; but soon the treacherous gloom betrays
Th' unwary visitor, while on his head
Th' enlarging drops in double show'rs descend.
And now no longer in disguise the men
Of Kent appear; down they all drop their boughs,
And shine in brazen panoply divine.

Enough great William (for full well he knew
How vain would be the conquest) to the sons
Of glorious Cantium gave their lives, and laws,
And liberties secure, and to the prowess
Of Cantium's sons, like Cæsar, deign'd to yield:
Cæsar and William hail immortal worthies,
Illustrious vanquish'd! Cantium, if to them,
Posterity with all her chiefs unborn,
Aught similar, aught second has to boast.
Once more (so prophesies the Muse) thy sons
Shall triumph, emulous of their sires-till then
With olive, and with hop-garlands crown'd,
O'er all thy land reign plenty, reign fair peace.

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Ar length the Musc her destin'd task resumes With joy; agen o'er all her hop-land groves She seeks t' expatiate free of wing. Long while For a much-loving, much-lov'd youth she wept, Sorrowing in silence o'er th' untimely urn. Hush then, effeminate sobs; and thou, my heart, Rebel to grief no more-And yet a while, A little while, indulge the friendly tears. O'er the wild world, like Noah's dove, in vain I seek the olive peace, around me wide See! see! the wat'ry waste-la vain forlorn Alas!-extinguish'd to the skies she fled, I call the phenix, fair Sincerity; And left no heir behind her. The eternal smile of goodness? Where is now Where is now That all-extensive charity of soul, So rich in sweetness, that the classic sounds In elegance Augustan cloth'd, the wit That flow'd perennial, hardly were observ'd, Or, if observ'd, set off that brighter gem. How oft, and yet how seldom did it seem! Have I enjoy'd his converse?-When we met, The hours how swift they sweetly fled, and till Agen I saw him how they loiter'd. Oh! Theophilus', thou dear departed soul, What flattering tales thou told'st me? How thou'dst hail

My Muse, and took'st imaginary walks

For shelter sought-Wretches! they shelter find, All in my hopland groves. Stay yet, oh stay !

Eternal shelter in the arms of death!

Thus when Aquarius pours out all bis urn

Down on some lonesome heath, the traveller That wanders o'er the wintry waste, accepts The invitation of some spreading beech

"Aurora borealis, or lights in the air; a phenomenon which of late years has been frequent here, and in all the more northern countries.

Thou dear deluder, thou hast seen but half-
He's gone! aud aught that's equal to his praise
Fame has not for me, tho' she prove most kind.
Howe'er this verse be sacred to thy name,
These tears, the last sad duty of a friend.
Oft I'll indulge the pleasurable pain

Mr. Theophilus Wheeler, of Christ Church,
Cambridge.

Of recollection; oft on Medway's banks
I'll muse on thee full pensive; while her streams
Regardful ever of my grief, shall flow
In sullen silence silverly along

The weeping shores-or else accordant with
My loud laments, shall ever and anon
Make melancholy music to the shades,
The hopland shades, that on her banks expose
Serpentine vines and flowing locks of gold.

Ye smiling nymphs, th' inseparable train
Of saffron Ceres; ye, that gamesome dance,
And sing to jolly Autumn, while he stands
With his right hand poizing the scales of Heav'n,
And while his left grasps Amalthea's horn:
Young chorus of fair Bacchanals, descend,
And leave awhile the sickle; yonder hill,
Where stand the loaded hop-poles, claims your

care.

There mighty Bacchus seated cross the bin,
Waits your attendance-There he glad reviews
His paunch, approaching to immensity
Still nearer, and with pride of heart surveys
Obedient mortals, and the world his own.
See! from the great metropolis they rush,
Th' industrious vulgar. They, like prudent bees,
In Kent's wide garden roam, expert to crop
The flow'ry hop, and provident to work,
Ere winter numb their sunburnt hands, and winds
Engoal them, murmuring in their gloomy cells.
From these, such as appear the rest t' excel
In strength and young agility, select.
These shall support with vigour and address
The bin-man's weighty office; now extract
From the sequacious earth the pole, and now
Unmarry from the closely clinging vine.
O'er twice three pickers, and no more, extend
The bin-man's sway; unless thy ears can bear
The crack of poles continual, and thine eyes
Behold unmoved the hurrying peasant tear
Thy wealth, and throw it on the thankless
ground.

But first the careful planter will consult
His quantity of acres and his crop,
How many and how large his kilns; and then
Proportion'd to his wants the hands provide.
But yet of greater consequence and cost,
One thing remains unsung, a inan of faith
And long experience, in whose thund'ring voice
Lives hoarse authority, potent to quell
The frequent frays of the tumultuous crew.
He shall preside o'er all thy hop-land store,
Severe dictator! His unerring hand,
And eye inquisitive, in heedful guise,
Shall to the brink the measure fill, and fair
On the twin registers the work record.
And yet I've known them own a female reign,
And gentle Mariane's soft Orphean voice
Has hymn'd sweet lessons of humanity
To the wild brutal crew. Oft her command
Has sav'd the pillars of the hop-land state,
The lofty poles from ruin, and sustain'd,
Like Anna, or Eliza, her domain,

That stain the sample, and its worth debase.
All things thus settled and prepar'd, what now
Can stop the planter's purposes? Unless
The Heavens frown dissent, and ominous winds
Howl thro' the concave of the troubled sky.
And oft, alas! the long experienc'd wights
(Oh! could they too prevent them) storms forc-

see.

For, as the storm rides on the rising clouds,
Fly the fleet wild-geese far away3, or else
The heifer towards the zenith rears her head,
And with expanded nostrils snuffs the air:
The swallows too their airy circuits weave,
And screaming skim the brook; and fen bred
frogs

Forth from their hoarse throats their old grudge
recite:

Or from her earthly coverlets the ant
Hleaves her huge eggs along the narrow way:
Or bends Thaumantia's 4 variegated bow
Athwart the cope of Heav'n: or sable crows
Obstreperous of wing, in clouds combine:
Besides, unnumber'd troops of birds marine,
And Asia's feather'd flocks, that in the muds
Of flow'ry edg'd Cayster wont to prey,
Now in the shallows duck their speckled heads,
And lust to lave in vain, their unctuous plumes
Repulsive baffle their efforts: hearken next
How the curs'd raven, with her harmful voice,
Invokes the rain, and croaking to herself,
Struts on some spacious solitary shore.
Nor want thy servants and thy wife at home
Signs to presage the show'r; for in the hall
Sheds Niobe her prescient tears, and warns
Beneath thy leaden tubes to fix the vase,
And catch the falling dew drops, which supply
Soft water and salubrious, far the best
To soak thy hops, and brew thy generous beer.
But tho' bright Phoebus smile, and in the skies
The purple-rob'd serenity appear;

With more than manly dignity. Oft I've seen,
Ev'n at her frown the boist'rous uproar cease,
And the mad pickers, tam'd to diligence,
Cull from the bin the sprawling sprigs, and
leaves

The author's youngest sister.

Tho' every cloud be fled, yet if the rage
Of Boreas, or the blasting east prevail,
The planter has enough to check his hopes,
And in dne bounds confine his joys; for see
The ruffian winds in their abrupt career,
Leave not a hop behind, or at the best
Mangle the circling vine, and intercept

3 Nunquam imprudentibus imber
Obsuit. Aut illurn surgentem vallibus imis
Aëriæ fugere grues! aut bucula cœlum
Suspiciens, patulis captavit naribus auras:
Aut arguta lacus circumvolitavit hirundo:
Et veterem in limo ranæ cecinere querelam.
Sæpius & tectis penetralibus extulit ova
Angustum formica terens iter, & bibit ingens
Arcus, &e pastu decedens agmine magno.
Corvorum increpuit densis exercitus alis.
Jam varias pelagi volucres, & quæ Asia circum
Dulcibus in stagnis rimantur pratra Caystri,
Certatim largos humeris infundere rores;
Nunc caput objectare fretis, nunc currere in un-

das,

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