Schon oben haben wir ihn, aus seinem Gedichte, The Fleece, als Lehrdichter kennen lernen; noch håber aber ift 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 rein schönstes 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 Milton's wird man hier leicht gewahr. Dyer war Mahler, und that, zur Ausbildung seiner Kunst, eine Reise nach Jtalien. Nach seiner Rückkehr schrieb er das zweite Gedicht, Xom's Ruinen, welches gleichfals sehr schöne und wahrhaft poetische Stellen hat, worunter fich die:
At dead of night
The hermit ofr, 'inidit his orisuns, hears
Aghast, the voice of Tiine disparting towers; durch ihre nachbruckvolle Stärke vorzüglich auszeichnet.
Now, I gain the mountain's brow,
What a landi kip lies below!
No clouds, no vapours intervene,
But the gay, the open scene
Does the face of nature show,
In all the hues of heaven's bow!
And, swelling to embrace the light,
Spreads around beneath the fight.
Old castles on the cliffs arise,
Proudly tow'ring in the skies!
Below me trees unnuinber'd rise
Beautiful in various dyes:
The gloomy pine, the poplar blue,
The yellow beech, the fable yew,
The flender fir, that taper grows,
The fturdy oak with broad-spread boughs.
And beyond the purple grove,
Haunt of Phillis, queen of love!
Gaudy as the op'ning dawn,
Lies a long and level lawn,
On which a dark hill, steep and high,
Holds and charms the wand'ring eye!
Deep are his feet in Towy's flood,
His fides are cloath'd with waving wood,
And ancient towers crown his brow,
That cast an awful look below;
Whose ragged walls the ivy creeps,
And with her arms from falling keeps;
So both a fafety from the wind
On mutual dependence find.
'Tis now the raven's bleak abode
'Tis now th' apartment of the toad;
And there the fox fecurely feeds;
And there the pois'nous'adder breeds,
Conceald in ruins, moss and weeds:
While, ever and anon, there falls
Huge heaps of hoary moulder'd walls
Yet time has seen, that lifts the low',
And level lays the lofty brow,
Has seen this broken pile compleat,?
Big with the vanity of state;
But transient is the smile of fate!
And see the rivers how they run,
Thro' woods and meads, in shade and fun,
Sometimes swift, and sometimes flow,
Wave succeeding wave, they go
A various journey to the deep,
Like human life to endless sleep!
Thus is nature's vesture wrought,
To instru&t our wand'ring thought;
Thus she dresses green and gay, ,
To disperse our cares away.
Still we tread the lame coarle way,
The present's still a cloudy day.
O may I with myself agree,
And never covet what I see:
Content me with an humble shade,
My passions tam'd, my wishes laid;
For while our wishes wildly roll,
We banil h quiet from the soul:
Tis thus the busy beat the air;
And mifers gather wealth and carë.
Now, ev'n now, my joy runs high,
As on the mountain-turf I lie;
While the wanton Zephyr fings,
And in the vale perfumes his wings;
While the waters murmur deep;
While the shepherd charms his sheep;
While the birds unbounded fly,
And with mufick fill the sky,
Now, ev'n now, my joy runs high.
Be full, ye courts, be great who will;
Search for Peace with all your skill:
Open wide the lofty door,
Seek her on the marble floor,
In vain you search, she is not there ;
In vain
ye
search the domes of care!
Grals and flowers Quiet treads;
On the meads, and mountain-heads,
Along with Pleasure, close ally'd,
Ever by each other's side:
And often, by the murm'ring rill,
Hears the thrush, while all is still,
Within the groves of Grongar-Hill.
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