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Auch er schrieb fein schones mahlerisches Gedicht, Windfor - Forest, in seiner Jugend'; und überhaupt ist wohl, wie Dr. Warton bemerkt, Beschreibung der dußern Naturs fchönheiten gewdhnlich der erste Versuch des jungen Dichs ters, ehe er Sitten und Leidenschaften ftudirt hat. Eben dieser geschmackvolle Stunftrichter beurtheilt im zweiten Abs schnitte reines trefflichen Versuchs über Dope's Genie den Werth dieses Gedichts unftåndlich, und hält es nicht für eis ne der glüdlichsten Arbeiten dieses Dichters, dessen glångends ftes Talent die beschreibende Poesie gewiß nicht war. Wes nige von den hier vorkommenden Bildern find dem Gegens ftande fo eigenthümlich, daß fie nicht eben so irgendwo ans ders stehen könnten. Auch ist es mehr eine Schilderung låndlicher Schönheiten überhaupt, als derer, die dem Gehdis je bey Windsor eigen sind. Eine der schönsten Stellen ift die folgende, worin die Erzählung vor Lodona's Verwands tung, in ovidischer Manier, wo nicht glücklich angebracht, doch sehr einnehmend erzählt, und die Schilderung eines tus gendhaften und weisen Mannes, der in gelehrter Eingegos genheit lebt, meisterhaft ausgeführt ift.

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Now, Cancer glows with Phoebus fiery car!
The youth rush eager to the sylvan war,
Swarm o'er the lands, the forest walks surround,
Rouse the fleet hart, and cheer the op’ning hound.
Th' impatient courser pants in ev'ry vein,
And pawing, seems to beat the distant plain :
Hills, vales, and Hoods, appear already croft,
And ere he starts, a thousand steps are lost.
See the bold youth strain up the threat'ning steep
Ruth through the thickets, down the valleys sweep,

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Hang o'er their coursers heads with eager speed,
And earth rolls back beneath the flying steed.
Let old Arcadia boast her ample plain,
Th'immortal huntress, and her virgin-train;
Nor envy, Windfor! Since thy shades have seen
As bright a goddels, and as chaite a QUEEN;
Whose care, like hers, protects the fylvan reign,
The, earth's fair light, and empress of the main,
Here too, 'tis sung, of old Diana stray'd
And Cynthus' top forsook for Windsor shade;
Here was she seen o’er airy wastes to rove
Seek the clear spring, or haunt the pathless grove;
Here arm'd with filver bows, in early dawn
Her buskind virgins trac'd the wy lawn.

Above the rest a rural nymph was fam'd
Thy offspring, Thames! the fair Lodona nam'd;
(Lodona's fate, in long oblivion cast,
The Muse shall sing, and what she fings shall last)
Scarce could theigoddess from her nymph be known,
But by the crescent and the golden Zone;
She scorn'd the praise of beauty, and the care;
A belt her waist, a fillet binds her hair;
A painted quiver on her shoulder sounds,
And with her dart the flying deer She wounds.
It chanc'd, as, eager of the chace, the maid
Beyond the forest's verdant limits stray'd
Pan faw and lov'd, and burning with desire
Pursu'd her flight, her flight increas'd his fire
Not half so swift the trembling doves can fly
When the fierce eagle cleaves the liquid sky;
Not halt so swiftly the fierce eagle moves,
When thro' the clouds he drives the trembling do-

As from the god she flew with furious pace,
Or as the god, more furious, urg'd the chace.
Now fainting, sinking, pale, the nymph appears;
Now close behind, his founding steps fhe hears;
And' now his shadow reach'd her as she run,
His shadow lengthen’d by the setting fun;

And pope. .

And now his shorter breath, with sultry air,
Pants on her neck, and fans her parting hair.
In vain on father Thames she calls for aid,
Nor could Diana help her injur'd maid,
Faint, breathless, thus she pray'd, nor pray'd in vain :
„Ah, Cyntia! ah - though banish'd from thy train

Let me, o let me, to the Shades repair
„My native shades—there weep, and murmur there!
She said, and melting as in tears she lay
In a soft, filver Stream diffolv'd away,
The filver Stream her virgin coldness keeps,
For ever murmurs, and for ever weeps;
Still bears the name the hapless virgin bore.
And bathes the forest where she rang'd before.
In her chaste current oft the goddess laves,
And with celestial tears augments the waves.
Oft in her glass the musing shepherd spies
The headlong mountains and the downward skies,
The wat'ry landscape of the pendent woods
And absent trees that tremble in the floods;
In the clear azure gleam the flocks are seen
And floating forest paint the waves with green.
Through the fair scene roll slow the ling'ring streams,
Then foaming pour along, and rush into the Thames.

Thou too, great father of the British floods,
With joyful pride survey'st our lofty woods
Where tow'ring oaks their growing honours rear
And future navies on thy shores appear.
Not Neptune's self from all her streams receives
A wealthier tribute, than to thine he gives.
No sea's so rich, lo gay no banks appear,
No lake fo gentle, and no spring so clear,
Nor Po so twells the fabling poet's lays,
While led along the skies his current strays
As thine, which visits Windsor's fam'd abodes
To grace the mansion of our earthly gods:
Nor all his stars above a lustre show
Like the bright beauties on thy blanks below.
Where Jove, subdu'd by mortal passion still
Might change Olympus for a nobler hill.



Happy the man, whom this bright court approves
His fou'reign favours, and his country loves !
Happy next him, who to these shades retires,
Whom Nature charms, and whom the Mule inspires;
Whom humbler joys of home, felt quiet please
Successive study, exercise, and ease.
He gathers health from herbs the forest yields,
And of their fragrant physic spoils the fields:
With chemic art exalts the min'ral pow'rs
And draws the aromatic souls of Aow'rs:
Now marks the course of rolling orbs on high
O'er figur'd worlds now travels with his eye
Of ancient writ unlocks the learned store,
Consults the dead, and lives past ages o'er.
Or wand'ring thoughtful in the filent wood,
Attends the duties of the wise and good,
T'observe a mean, be to himself a friend,
To follow nature, and regard his end;
Or looks on heaven with more than mortal eyes,
Bids his free foul exspatiate in the skies,
Amid her kindred stars familiar roam,
Survey the region, and confefs her home.
Such was the life great Scipio once admir'd
Thus Atticus, and TRUMBULL thus retird

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Schon oben haben wir ihn, aus seinem Gedichte, The Fleece, als Lehrdichter kennen lernen; noch håber aber ist der Rang, den er sich in der beschreibenden Poesie durch seine beiden, hier mitgetheilten Gedichte, Grongar - Hill, und The Ruins of Rome, erworben hat. Jenes ist sein schånstes Gedicht, reich an reizenden Scenen und Bildern, und voll von meisterhaft eingewebten, überaus treffenden kleinen Bes trachtungen, worin ihm, nach warton's Urtheil, selbst Denham, dem er nachahmte, nicht überlegen ist. Auch die Nachahmung Jiilton's wird man hier leicht gewahr. Dyer war Mahler, und that, zur Ausbildung seiner Stunft, eine Reise nach Italien. Nach seiner Rückkehr schrieb er das zweite Gedicht, Xom's Ruinen, welches gleichfalls sehr schöne und wahrhaft poetische Stellen hat, worunter sich die:

At dead of night
The hermit oft, 'rnidst his orisons, hears

Aghast, the voice of Time disparting towers; durch ihre nachdruckvolle Stärke vorzüglich auszeichnet.

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