Classic Poem

Without the Hall, and close upon the Gate,
A goodly Orchard ground was situate
O neare ten Acres, about which was led
A loftie Quickset. In it flourished
High and broad fruit trees that Pomegranats bore;
Sweet Figs, Peares, Olives, and a number more
Most usefull Plants did there produce their store,
Whose fruits the hardest Winter could not kill,
Nor hotest Summer wither. There was still
Fruite in his proper season all the yeare.
Sweet Zephyr breath'd upon them blasts that were
Of varied tempers: these he made to beare
Ripe fruites, these blossomes; Peare grew after Peare,
Apple succeeded apple, Grape the Grape,
Fig after Fig came; Time made never rape
Of any daintie there. A spritely vine
Spred here his roote, whose fruite a hote sun-shine
Made ripe betimes. Here grew another, greene.
Here some were gathering, here some pressing scene.
A large-allotted severall each fruite had;
And all th'adornd grounds their apparance made
In flowre and fruite, at which the King did aime
To the precisest order he could claime.
Two Fountaines grac't the garden; of which, one
Powrd out a winding streame that over-runne
The grounds for their use chiefly, th'other went
Close by the loftie Pallace gate, and lent
The Citie has sweet benefit. And thus
The Gods the Court deckt of Alcinous.