3 ill.

Clash'd looks, 'gainst niovements, paint internal

fight
'Twixt the heart's anguish, and the help's delight:
Then, touch'd attention's hark’ning hush creeps

round:
And breathless mouths devour th' expected found.

Nature loves change - Cold night succeeds to

morn:
And pity's dark’ning opposite is scorn:
Far be this brown - stretch'd arrogance of air,
From misery's doomful claim, in fons of care
Ah! minds (too apt) turn but the look within,
We find prides image, there, as fure, as fin!
Yet, with such bias, rolls man's will from right,
That search, first, mifles, what is most in light:
Elle, how unneedful, to describe a rage,
No player wants power to feel - but on the stage.

Cautious (life's speaking pi&ture) wear that

stain,
Rightly to show, be thine -- but not retain !
Scorn is calm, careless, anger, flagg'd of wing,
Brush'd sense of harmless wrong, too weak to iting
Safe in suspended power, eas'd warmth diclaims
Exertion and, with flack remissness, flames:
Now smiles

now frowns

- yet, both, with eye

serene,
While half - strung nerves play springs of painless

spleen.

Close • following scorn - amazement ought

to rise;
Angels feel wonder, men should dare despise !
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 cause:
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:

Bill.

"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, diftrusts it, seen;
As in pale churchyards, gleam'd by silent night,
Shou'd fome cross'd spectre shade the moon's dim

light,
Shudd'ry, the back’ning blood, revolving swift,
Cloggs the press'd heart stretch'd fibres fail to

lift:
Loft, in doubt's hard’ning frost — stopt motion lies,
While fenfe climbs, gradual, to the straining eyes.

Dyer.

Dyer.

Dye r.
Glåcklicher noch in der befchreibenden, als in der eis
gentlichen didaktischen Dichtungsart war John Dyer, geb.
1700, geft. 1758. Das großte seiner Gedichte ift indeß von
der leķtern Gattung, und hat die Ueberschrift: The Fleece,
oder, die wolle. Es besteht aus vier Büchern, wovon das
erste die Schafzucht und Schafichur, das zweite die Gewin:
nung und Zubereitung der Wolle, das dritte das Verfahren,
beint Wesen und Fårben derselben, und das vierte den en:
glischen Wolhandel zum Jnhalt hat. Die Wahl dieses Ges
genstandes war nicht allzu glücklich, und konnte bloß für seis
ne Nation durch den Umstand, daß der Wölhandel eins ihs
rer vornehmsten Gewerbe ist, einiges Interesse gewinnen.
Der Dichter wußte indeß seinen Gegenstand durch Hülfe scis
ner bilderreichen Phantafie, und durch einige ganz angenehs
me Episoden, stellenweise zu beleben;' nur dem Gangen man.
gelt es doch an lebhaft anziehender Straft; wovon aber freis
lich die Schuld mehr dem Subjekt, als dem Dichter beizu:
meffen ift.

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 Fluß
fes Severn, geschildert werden. -- Bergl. Dusch's Briefe,
Th. I. 10. 11.

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

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

Yorkshire, where the shepherds' sheers, and all edge-
tools, are made.

Dyer.

Clatter their heavy hammers down by turns,
Flattning the steel: from their rough hands re-

ceive
The sharpen'd instrument that from the flock
Severs the Fleece. If verdant elder spreads
Her filver flowr's; if humble dailies yield
To yellow crow. foot, and luxuriant grass
Gay shearing time approaches. Firit, 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 food, not long the struggler finks,
With his white flakes that glisten thro' the tide;
The sturdy rustic, in the middle wave,
Awaits to seize him rising; one arı:e bears
His lifted head above the limpid stream,
While the full clammy Fleece the other laves
Around, laborious, with repeated toil;
And then resigns him to the funny bank,
Where, bleating loud, he shakes his dripping

locks.
Shear them the fourth or fifth return of morn
Left touch of busy fly-blows wound their skin.
Thy peaceful subjects without murinur yield
Their yearly tribute : 'tis the prudent part
To cherish and be gentie, while ye strip
The downy vesture from their tender fides.
Press 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 (warm and scorching heat;
And careful house them, if the low ring clouds
Mingle their stores tumultuous: thro' the gloom
Then thunder oft" with pond'rous wheels rolls

loud
And breaks the crystal urns of heav'n; adown
Falls streaming rain. Sometimes among the feeps

,
of Cambrian glades (pity the Cambrian glades!)
Falt tumbling brooks on brooks enormous (well

Beisp. Samml 3. B.

And

Dyer.

And sudden overwhelin their vanish'd fields:
Down with the flood away the naked sheep
Bleating in vain, are borne, and straw - built

huts,
And rifted trees, and heavy enormous rocks
Down with the rapid torrent to the deep.
At shearing - time along the lively vales
Rural festivities are often heard;
Beneath each blooming arbour all is joy
And lusty 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 shrill pipe, and deep-remurin'ring cords
Of th' ancient harp tabor's hollow sound,
While th' old apart, upon a bank reclin'd,
Attend the tuneful carol, softly mix'd
With every murmur of the stiding wave,
And every warble of the feather'd choir,
Music of Paradile! which still is heard
When the heart listens, still the views appear
Of the first happy garden, when Content
To Nature's flowery scenes directs the fight.
Yet we abandon those Elysian walks,
Then idly for the lost delight repine;
As greedy mariners, whose delp'rate fails
Skim o'er the billows of the foamy food,
Fancy they see the lessening shores retire,
And sigh a farewell to the linking hills.

Could I recall those notes which once the

Muse
Heard at a shearing, near the woody fides
Of blue - topp'd Wreakin! *) Yet the carols sweet
Thro' the deep maze of the memorial cell
Faintly remurmur. First arose in song
Hoar - headed Damon, venerable fwain;

The

*) Wreakin, a high hill in Shropshire.