Bill. Clafh'd looks, 'gainst movements, paint internal

fight

'Twixt the heart's anguifh, and the help's delight: Then, touch'd attention's hark'ning hufh creeps round:

And breathless mouths devour th' expected found.

And pity's dark'ning oppofite is fcorn:

Far be this brown- ftretch'd arrogance of air,
From mifery's doomful claim, in fons of care
Ah! minds (too apt) turn but the look within,
We find prid'es image, there, as fure, as fin!
Yet, with fuch bias, rolls man's will from right,
That fearch, first, mifles, what is most in fight:
Elfe, how unneedful, to defcribe a rage,
No player wants power to feel -

but on the stage.

Cautious (life's speaking picture) wear that ftain,

Rightly to fhow, be thine but not retain!
Scorn is calm, careless, anger, flagg'd of wing,
Brufh'd fenfe of harmless wrong, too weak to fting
Safe in fufpended power, eas'd warmth difclaims
Exertion and, with flack remifsnefs, flames:
Now fmiles now frowns - yet, both, with eye
ferene,

Angels feel wonder, men fhould dare defpife!

Born to mistakes, and erring out life's span,

Man as if heaven were his looks down on

Man.

Say, then, what wonder is trace its taught caufe:
Mark its true features, and make known its laws:
Wonder is curious doubt, Will's check'd retreat,
Shrinking from danger, it prepares to meet:

'Tis fear's half brother, of resembling face,

But fix'd, unwavering, and bound down to place:
Earnest, alarmful gaze, intently keen,

Notes the weigh'd object-yet, diftrufts it, feen;
As in pale churchyards, gleam'd by filent night,
Shou'd fome crofs'd fpectre fhade the moon's dim
light,

Shudd'ry, the back'ning blood, revolving fwift,
Cloggs the prefs'd heart ftretch'd fibres fail to

lift:

Loft, in doubt's hard'ning froft - ftopt motion lies,
While fenfe climbs, gradual, to the ftraining eyes.

Hill.

Dyer.

Dyer.

Glücklicher noch in der beschreibenden, als in der eis gentlichen didaktischen Dichtungsart war John Dyer, geb. 1700, gest. 1758. Das größte seiner Gedichte ist indeß von der legtern Gattung, und hat die Ueberschrift: The Fleece, øder, die wolle. Es besteht aus vier Büchern, wovon das erste die Schafzucht und Schafschur, das zweite die Gewinnung und Zubereitung der Wolle, das dritte das Verfahren, beim Weben und Fårben derselben, und das vierte den englischen Wollhandel zum Inhalt hat. Die Wahl dieses Ges genstandes war nicht allzu glücklich, und konnte bloß für seis ne Nation durch den Umstand, daß der Wölhandel eins ihrer vornehmsten Gewerbe ist, einiges Interesse gewinnen. Der Dichter wußte indeß seinen Gegenstand durch Hülfe seiz ner bilderreichen Phantasie, und durch einige ganz angenehme Episoden, stellenweise zu beleben; nur dem Ganzen mangelt es doch an lebhaft anziehender Kraft; wovon aber freilich die Schuld mehr dem Subjekt, als dem Dichter beizumessen ist. Zur Probe gebe ich hier den Schluß des ersten Gesanges, worin die Freuden und festlichen Gebräuche bei der Schafschur, besonders in Wales, und am Ufer des Flufses Severn, geschildert werden. --- Vergl. Dusch's Briefe, Ch. I. 10. 11.

THE FLEECE, B. I. v. 555. ff.

Now, jolly Swains! the harvest of your cares
Prepare to reap, and feek the founding caves
Of high Brigantium, *) where, by ruddy flames,
Vulcan's ftrong fons, with nervous arm, around
The fteady anvil and the glaring mafs

*) The caves of Brigantium --- the forges of Sheffield, in

Yorkshire, where the shepherds' sheers, and all edgetools, are made.'

Clatter their heavy hammers down by turns,
Flatt'ning the fteel: from their rough hands re-

ceive

The fharpen'd inftrument that from the flock
Severs the Fleece. If verdant elder spreads
Her filver flowr's; if humble daifies yield
To yellow crow foot, and luxuriant grafs
Gay fhearing time approaches. First, howe'er
Drive to the double fold, upon the brim
Of a clear river, gently drive the flock

And plunge them one by one into the flood.
Plung'd in the flood, not long the struggler finks,
With his white flakes that gliften thro' the tide;
The sturdy ruftic, in the middle wave,
Awaits to feize him rifing; one are bears
His lifted head above the limpid ftream,
While the full clammy Fleece the other laves
Around, laborious, with repeated toil;
And then refigns him to the funny bank,

Where, bleating loud, he fhakes his dripping
locks.

Shear them the fourth or fifth return of morn
Left touch of bufy fly-blows wound their fkin.
Thy peaceful fubjects without murmur yield
Their yearly tribute: 'tis the prudent part
To cherifh and be gentie, while ye ftrip.
The downy vesture from their tender fides.
Prefs not too clofe; with caution turn the points,
And from the head in regular rounds proceed:
But speedy, when ye chance to wound, with

tar

Prevent the wingy fwarm and fcorching heat;
And careful houfe them, if the low ring clouds
Mingle their ftores tumultuous: thro' the gloom
Then thunder oft with pond'rous wheels rolls
loud

And breaks the cryftal urns of heav'n; adown
Falls ftreaming rain., Sometimes among the fteeps
Of Cambrian glades (pity the Cambrian glades!)
Fast tumbling brooks on brooks enormous fwell

Dver.

And fudden overwhelm their vanifh'd fields:
Down with the flood away the naked sheep
Bleating in vain, are borne, and ftraw-built
huts,

And rifted trees, and heavy enormous rocks
Down with the rapid torrent to the deep.
At fhearing time along the lively vales
Rural feftivities are often heard;

Beneath each blooming arbour all is joy
And lufty merriment. While on the grass
The mingled youth in gaudy circles fport,
We think the Golden Age again return'd, "
And all the fabled Dryades in dance:

Leering they bound along, with laughing air
To the fhrill pipe, and deep-remurm'ring cords
Of th' ancient harp or tabor's hollow found,
While th' old apart, upon a bank reclin'd,
Attend the tuneful carol, foftly mix'd
With every murmur of the fiding wave,
And every warble of the feather'd choir,
Mufic of Paradife! which ftill is heard
When the heart liftens, ftill the views appear
Of the first happy garden, when Content
To Nature's flowery fcenes directs the fight.
Yet we abandon thofe Elysian walks,
Then idly for the loft delight repine;
As greedy mariners, whofe defp'rate fails
Skim o'er the billows of the foamy flood,
Fancy they fee the leffening fhores retire,
And figh a farewell to the finking hills.

Could I recall thofe notes which once the
Mufe

Heard at a fhearing, near the woody fides
Of blue-topp'd Wreakin! *) Yet the carols fweet
Thro' the deep maze of the memorial cell
Faintly remurmur. Firft arofe in fong
Hoar-headed Damon, venerable fwain;

The

*) Wreakin, a high hill in Shropshire.