Page:Cyder - a poem in two books (1708).djvu/36

Now turn thine Eye to view Alcinous' Groves,
The Pride of the Phæacian Isle, from whence,
Sailing the Spaces of the boundless Deep,
To Ariconium pretious Fruits arriv'd:
The Pippin burnisht o'er with Gold, the Moile
Of sweetest hony'd Taste, the fair Permain,
Temper'd, like comliest Nymph, with red and white.
Salopian Acres flourish with a Growth
Peculiar, styl'd the Ottley: Be thou first
This Apple to transplant; if to the Name
It's Merit answers, no where shalt thou find
A Wine more priz'd, or laudable of Taste.
Nor does the Eliot least deserve thy Care,
Nor John-Apple, whose wither'd Rind, entrencht
With many a Furrow, aptly represents
Decrepid Age; nor that from Harvey nam'd,
Quick-relishing: Why should we sing the Thrift,