In the far-off days, when the children of sunny Italy saw the
hillside vineyards rich with purple grapes, and the branches of the
orchards bending with the weight of luscious fruit, they clapped
their hands and cried gleefully, “See Pomona’s Gifts.” They offered
grateful thanks to the wood nymph whose thoughtful care brought the
precious fruit to a bountiful harvest.
Carrying a curved knife in her right hand, the faithful Pomona glided
swiftly up the hillside, and primed the low-bending vines of all rank
shoots. By cutting away all withered branches, she kept her orchards
green and trim, and thus helped the trees to bring forth richest
fruit.
So happy was this nymph in her work that she gave no attention to the
numerous suitors who hoped to win her. Many a time a madcap satyr
desiring to attract Pomona’s attention danced in vain near her
orchards. Pan played entrancingly on his reed pipes, but the nymph
gave no heed to his music.
Among the many admirers of Pomona was a youth named Vertumnus,
who presided over gardens and the changing seasons. How often he
patiently planned to meet this charming nymph while she was tending
her fruit and vines, but his advances were always met with a coy
indifference which puzzled him. At last he determined to appear in
various disguises in order to see if he could attract her attention,
and discover if she cared for him. One day he took the form of a
plowman, whip in hand, as if he had come from unyoking the tired oxen
in a neighboring field. At another time he assumed the guise of a
woodman carrying a pruning knife and ladder, then again he appeared
in the garb of a hardy reaper carrying a basket filled with golden
grain. But no matter what disguise he took--plowman, woodman, reaper,
fruit-gatherer, soldier, fisherman--he failed to win any attention
from the nymph, whose interest was centered on the precious orchards
and vineyards.
One day when Pomona was carefully examining the ripening fruit an old
woman leaning on a staff appeared before her and said, “Thy patient
care will earn a precious harvest. Never have I seen such marvelous
fruit. Tell me, fair nymph, does some strong youth help thee attend
to the orchards and vineyards?”
The maiden shook her head and replied, “There is no youth who is
constant enough to love the orchards and vineyards as dearly as
Pomona.”
But the old woman drew near to her and said, “There is one youth
whose constancy can not be questioned, but thou hast scorned his
advances. Many times has he told thee how gladly he would be thy
helpmate, for nothing in nature delights him so much as the golden
harvest of luscious fruit.”
“Thou meanest Vertumnus,” said the nymph. Then she added, “He is,
indeed, worthy of thy praise.”
Suddenly the old woman straightened her bent figure and threw off her
disguise. There before Pomona stood the handsome form of Vertumnus,
who no longer felt any doubt about the nymph’s love.
In the autumn sunshine under the trees, whose boughs were bending
with the ripening fruit, Pomona and Vertumnus plighted their troth,
and agreed to share in the labour of bringing to perfection the gifts
of orchards and vineyards.