Page:The Farm and Fruit of Old a translation in verse of the 1st and 2nd Georgics of Virgil, by a market-gardener (1862).djvu/52

To test it, rescue from the roof-tree dust,
Thick-osier'd maunds, and strainers of the must:
Herein that wicked soil compactly tread,
And water sweet, fresh from the fountain-head:
The water soon will fight its passage thence, 291
Ay, and the big drops trickle through their fence,
But proof condign their flavour will supply,
And sense of bitter twist the lips awry.
So too, when earth is over-fat, we can 295
Detect its grossness by a simple plan:
Though toss'd from hand to hand, it will not flake,
But stick like pitch, and to the fingers cake.
A watery soil too rank a growth will feed,
And over-rampant makes more haste than speed;
Ah, tempt me not with that luxuriant field, 301
Too winter-proud and powerful to yield!
A heavy and a light earth fall, if weigh'd,
Without a parley, known and self-betray'd.
Our eyes can read the hues from black to white,
But not the cursèd chill that breeds the blight,
Pitch-trees, and baleful yews, and ivy black,
Sole tenants whisper (when they dare ) its track.
This done, bethink thee well to season deep