Vertumnus prosecutes his suit to the nymph Pomona in the disguise of an old woman.
A hamadryad flourish’d in these days, Her name Pomona, from her woodland race. In garden culture none could so excel, Or form the pliant souls of plants so well; Or to the fruit more generous flavours lend, Or teach the trees with nobler loads to bend.
The nymph frequented not the flattering stream, Nor meads, the subject of a virgin’s dream; But to such joys her nursery did prefer, Alone to attend her vegetable care. A pruning hook she carried in her hand, And taught the stragglers to obey command; Lest the licentious, and unthrifty bough, The too-indulgent parent should undo. She shows, how stocks invite to their embrace A graft, and naturalize a foreign race To mend the savage teint; and in its stead Adopt new nature, and a nobler breed.