It A DISCOURSE 



The (Consideration of this it was which gave me the curiosity to fall 

 upon the examining of a collection I had made of several sorts of earths 

 and soils, such as I could find about this territory, whereof some I washed, 

 to find by what would melt, reside, or pass away in the percolation, of 

 what visible figure they chiefly seemed to consist, armed as I was with 



Th' unfriendly cliffs, and unprolific ground. 

 Where clay jejune, and the cold flint abound, 

 Where bushes overspread the barren field. 

 Will best th' unfading grove of Pallas yield : 

 Here the wild olive woods luxuriant shoot. 

 And all the plains are strewn with sylvan fruit. 

 But the rich soil with genial force endu'd. 

 All green with grass, with moisture sweet bedew'd. 

 Such as we oft survey from cavern'd hills. 

 Whence many a stream descends in dripping rills. 

 And with rich ooze the fatt'ning valley fills ; 

 Or that which feels the balmy southern air. 

 And feeds the fern unfriendly to the share ; 

 Ere long will vines of lustiest growth produce. 

 And big with bounteous Bacchus' choicest juice. 

 Will give the grape in solemn sacrifice. 

 Whose purple stream the golden goblet dyes. 

 When the fat Tuscan's horn has call'd the god, 

 And'the full chargers bend beneath the smoking load. 

 But bullocks would you rear, and herds of cows. 

 Or sheep, or goats that crop the budding boughs ; 

 Seek rich Tarentura's plains, a distant coast. 

 And fields like those my luckless Mantua lost. 

 His silver-pinion'd swans where Mincio feeds. 

 As slow they sail among the wat'ry weeds. 

 There for thy flocks fresh fountains never fail. 

 Undying verdure clothes the grassy vale ; 

 And what is cropp'd by day, the night renews. 

 Shedding refreshful stores of cooling dews. 



A sable mould and fat beneath the share. 

 That crumbles to the touch, of texture rare. 

 And (what our art effects) by nature loose. 

 Will the best growth of foodful grain produce : 

 And from no field, beneath pale evening's star 

 With heavier harvests fraught, returns the nodding car. 

 Or else the plain, from which the ploughman's rage 

 Has fell'd the forest, hoar through many an age. 



