All these rules Regarding, let your land, ay, long before, Scorch to the quick, and into trenches carve The mighty mountains, and their upturned clods Bare to the north wind, ere thou plant therein The vine's prolific kindred. Fields whose soil Is crumbling are the best: winds look to that, And bitter hoar-frosts, and the delver's toil Untiring, as he stirs the loosened glebe. But those, whose vigilance no care escapes, Search for a kindred site, where first to rear A nursery for the trees, and eke whereto Soon to translate them, lest the sudden shock From their new mother the young plants estrange. Nay, even the quarter of the sky they brand Upon the bark, that each may be restored, As erst it stood, here bore the southern heats, Here turned its shoulder to the northern pole; So strong is custom formed in early years. Whether on hill or plain 'tis best to plant Your vineyard first inquire. If on some plain You measure out rich acres, then plant thick; Thick planting makes no niggard of the vine; But if on rising mound or sloping bill, Then let the rows have room, so none the less Each line you draw, when all the trees are set, May tally to perfection. Even as oft In mighty war, whenas the legion's length Deploys its cohorts, and the column stands In open plain, the ranks of battle set, And far and near with rippling sheen of arms The wide earth flickers, nor yet in grisly strife Foe grapples foe, but dubious 'twixt the hosts The war-god wavers; so let all be ranged In equal rows symmetric, not alone To feed an idle fancy with the view, But since not otherwise will earth afford Vigour to all alike, nor yet the boughs Have power to stretch them into open space.