Pomona was the especial patroness of the apple-orchard, and as such she was invoked by Phillips, the author of a poem on Cider, in blank verse, in the following lines:
"What soil the apple loves, what care is due To orchats, timeliest when to press the fruits, Thy gift, Pomona, in Miltonian verse Adventurous I presume to sing."
Thomson, in the Seasons, alludes to Phillips:
"Phillips, Pomona's bard, the second thou Who nobly durst, in rhyme-unfettered verse, With British freedom, sing the British song."
It will be seen that Thomson refers to the poet's reference to Milton, but it is not true that Phillips is only the second writer of English blank verse. Many other poets beside Milton had used it long before Phillips' time.
But Pomona was also regarded as presiding over other fruits, and, as such, is invoked by Thomson:
"Bear me, Pomona, to thy citron groves, To where the lemon and the piercing lime, With the deep orange, glowing through the green, Their lighter glories blend. Lay me reclined Beneath the spreading tamarind, that shakes, Fanned by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit."
A certain king had three daughters. (This seems to be one of the latest fables of the Greek mythology. It has not been found earlier than the close of the second century of the Christian era. It bears marks of the higher religious notions of that time.) The two elder were charming girls, but the beauty of the youngest was so wonderful that language is too poor to express its due praise. The fame of her beauty was so great that strangers from neighboring countries came in crowds to enjoy the sight, and looked on her with amazement, paying her that homage which is due only to Venus herself. In fact, Venus found her altars deserted, while men turned their devotion to this young virgin. As she passed along, the people sang her praises, and strewed her way with chaplets and flowers.