JOHN DYER (1700-1758)

GRONGAR HILL
1726

Silent nymph1 with curious eye,
Who, the purple ev'ning, lie
On the mountain's lonely van,
Beyond the noise of busy man,
5 Painting fair the form of things,
While the yellow linnet sings,
Or the tuneful nightingale
Charms the forest with her tale,
Come, with all thy various hues,
10 Come, and aid thy sister Muse;

Now while Phoebus, riding high,
Gives lustre to the land and sky,
Grongar Hill invites my song;
Draw the landskip bright and strong;
15 Grongar, in whose mossy cells,
Sweetly musing Quiet dwells;
Grongar, in whose silent shade,
For the modest Muses made,
So oft I have, the ev'ning still,
20 At the fountain of a rill,

Sat upon a flow'ry bed,

With my hand beneath my head,
While stray'd my eyes o'er Towy's flood,
Over mead and over wood,

25 From house to house, from hill to hill, Till Contemplation had her fill.

About his chequer'd sides I wind, And leave his brooks and meads behind, And groves and grottoes where I lay, 30 And vistoes2 shooting beams of day. Wide and wider spreads the vale, As circles on a smooth canal: The mountains round, unhappy fate! Sooner or later, of all height,

35 Withdraw their summits from the skies,
And lessen as the others rise:
Still the prospect wider spreads,
Adds a thousand woods and meads;
Still it widens, widens still,
40 And sinks the newly-risen hill.

Now I gain the mountain's brow,
What a landskip lies below!
No clouds, no vapors intervene;
But the gay, the open scene
45 Does the face of Nature show

In all the hues of heaven's bow,
And, swelling to embrace the light,
Spreads around beneath the sight.
Old castles on the cliffs arise,
50 Proudly tow'ring in the skies;
Rushing from the woods, the spires
Seem from hence ascending fires;
Half his beams Apollo sheds

1 The muse of paint- 2 vistas; prospects
ing.

On the yellow mountain-heads, 55 Gilds the fleeces of the flocks,

And glitters on the broken rocks.
Below me trees unnumber'd rise,
Beautiful in various dyes;

The gloomy pine, the poplar blue,
60 The yellow beech, the sable yew,
The slender fir, that taper grows,
The sturdy oak with broad-spread boughs,
And beyond the purple grove,
Haunt of Phillis, queen of love!
65 Gaudy as the op'ning dawn,
Lies a long and level lawn,1

On which a dark hill, steep and high,
Holds and charms the wand'ring eye:
Deep are his feet in Towy's flood,

70 His sides are cloth'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;
75 So both a safety 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 securely feeds, 80 And there the pois 'nous adder breeds, Conceal'd 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, 85 And level lays the lofty brow,

Has seen this broken pile compleat,2
Big with the vanity of state:
But transient is the smile of Fate!
A little rule, a little sway,

90 A sunbeam in a winter's day,
Is all the proud and mighty have
Between the cradle and the grave.

And see the rivers how they run
Thro' woods and meads, in shade and
sun!

95 Sometimes swift and sometimes slow,
Wave succeeding wave, they go

A various journey to the deep,
Like human life to endless sleep:
Thus is Nature's vesture wrought,
100 To instruct our wand'ring thought;
Thus she dresses green and gay,
To disperse our cares away.

Ever charming, ever new,
When will the landskip tire the view!
105 The fountain's fall, the river's flow,
The woody valleys warm and low;
The windy summit, wild and high,
Roughly rushing on the sky!

The pleasant seat, the ruin'd tow 'r,

110 The naked rock, the shady bow 'r;
The town and village, dome and farm,
Each give each a double charm,
As pearls upon an Ethiop's arm.

See on the mountain's southern side,
115 Where the prospect opens wide,
Where the ev'ning gilds the tide,
How close and small the hedges lie!
What streaks of meadows cross the eye!
A step, methinks, may pass the stream,

120 So little distant dangers seem;
So we mistake the Future's face,
Ey'd thro' Hope's deluding glass;
As yon summits soft and fair,
Clad in colors of the air,

125 Which, to those who journey near,
Barren, brown, and rough appear;
Still we tread the same coarse way;
The present's still a cloudy day.

0
may I with myself agree,
130 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 banish quiet from the soul;
135 'Tis thus the busy beat the air,
And misers gather wealth and care.
Now, ev'n now, my joys run high,
As on the mountain-turf I lie;
While the wanton Zephyr sings,
140 And in the vale perfumes his wings;
While the waters murmur deep;
While the shepherd charms1 his sheep;
While the birds unbounded fly,
And with music fill the sky,
145 Now, ev'n now, my joys run 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:
150 In vain ye search, she is not there;
In vain ye search the domes of Care!
Grass and flowers Quiet treads,
On the meads and mountain-heads,
Along with Pleasure close ally'd,
155 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.

Feeble, defenceless: lenient be thy care: But spread around thy tenderest diligence

In flow'ry spring-time, when the newdropt lamb,

Tottering with weakness by his mother's side,

405 Feels the fresh world about him; and each thorn,

Hillock, or furrow, trips his feeble feet: Oh, guard his meek sweet innocence from all

Th' innumerous ills, that rush around his life;

Mark the quick kite, with beak and talons prone,

410 Circling the skies to snatch him from the plain;

Observe the lurking crows; beware the brake,

There the sly fox the careless minute

waits;

Nor trust thy neighbor's dog, nor earth,

nor sky:

Thy bosom to a thousand cares divide. 415 Eurus oft sings his hail; the tardy fields Pay not their promised food; and oft

the dam

O'er her weak twins with empty udder mourns,

Or fails to guard, when the bold bird of

prey

Alights, and hops in many turns around, 420 And tires her also turning: to her aid

Be nimble, and the weakest in thine arms
Gently convey to the warm cote, and oft,
Between the lark's note and the nightin-
gale's,

His hungry bleating still with tepid milk: 425 In this soft office may thy children join, And charitable habits learn in sport:

Nor yield him to himself, ere vernal airs Sprinkle thy little croft with daisy flowers:

Nor yet forget him: life has rising ills: 430 Various as ether1 is the pastoral care: Through slow experience, by a patient breast,

The whole long lesson gradual is at-
tained,

By precept after precept, oft received
With deep attention: such as Nuceus

sings

435 To the full vale near Soare's enamor'd brook,

While all is silence: sweet Hincklean swain!

1 The substance supposed to fill the upper regions of space.

JOHN DYER (1700-1758)

GRONGAR HILL
1726

Silent nymph1 with curious eye,
Who, the purple ev'ning, lie
On the mountain's lonely van,
Beyond the noise of busy man,
5 Painting fair the form of things,
While the yellow linnet sings,
Or the tuneful nightingale

Charms the forest with her tale,
Come, with all thy various hues,
10 Come, and aid thy sister Muse;
Now while Phoebus, riding high,
Gives lustre to the land and sky,
Grongar Hill invites my song;
Draw the landskip bright and strong;
15 Grongar, in whose mossy cells,
Sweetly musing Quiet dwells;
Grongar, in whose silent shade,
For the modest Muses made,
So oft I have, the ev'ning still,
20 At the fountain of a rill,

Sat upon a flow'ry bed,

With my hand beneath my head,
While stray'd my eyes o'er Towy's flood,
Over mead and over wood,

25 From house to house, from hill to hill, Till Contemplation had her fill.

About his chequer'd sides I wind, And leave his brooks and meads behind, And groves and grottoes where I lay, 30 And vistoes2 shooting beams of day. Wide and wider spreads the vale, As circles on a smooth canal: The mountains round, unhappy fate! Sooner or later, of all height,

35 Withdraw their summits from the skies, And lessen as the others rise:

Still the prospect wider spreads,
Adds a thousand woods and meads;
Still it widens, widens still,
40 And sinks the newly-risen hill.

Now I gain the mountain's brow,
What a landskip lies below!
No clouds, no vapors intervene;
But the gay, the open scene
45 Does the face of Nature show

In all the hues of heaven's bow,
And, swelling to embrace the light,
Spreads around beneath the sight.
Old castles on the cliffs arise,
50 Proudly tow 'ring in the skies;
Rushing from the woods, the spires
Seem from hence ascending fires;
Half his beams Apollo sheds

1 The muse of paint- 2 vistas; prospects
ing.

On the yellow mountain-heads, 55 Gilds the fleeces of the flocks, And glitters on the broken rocks.

Below me trees unnumber'd rise,
Beautiful in various dyes;
The gloomy pine, the poplar blue,
60 The yellow beech, the sable yew,
The slender fir, that taper grows,
The sturdy oak with broad-spread boughs,
And beyond the purple grove,
Haunt of Phillis, queen of love!
65 Gaudy as the op'ning dawn,
Lies a long and level lawn,1

On which a dark hill, steep and high,
Holds and charms the wand'ring eye:
Deep are his feet in Towy's flood,

70 His sides are cloth'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;
75 So both a safety 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 securely feeds, 80 And there the pois 'nous adder breeds, Conceal'd 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, 85 And level lays the lofty brow,

Has seen this broken pile compleat,2
Big with the vanity of state:
But transient is the smile of Fate!
A little rule, a little sway,

90 A sunbeam in a winter's day,
Is all the proud and mighty have
Between the cradle and the grave.

And see the rivers how they run
Thro' woods and meads, in shade and
sun!

95 Sometimes swift and sometimes slow,
Wave succeeding wave, they go

A various journey to the deep,
Like human life to endless sleep:
Thus is Nature's vesture wrought,
100 To instruct our wand'ring thought;
Thus she dresses green and gay,
To disperse our cares away.

Ever charming, ever new,
When will the landskip tire the view!
105 The fountain's fall, the river's flow,
The woody valleys warm and low;
The windy summit, wild and high,
Roughly rushing on the sky!
The pleasant seat, the ruin'd tow 'r,

110 The naked rock, the shady bow'r;
The town and village, dome and farm,
Each give each a double charm,
As pearls upon an Ethiop's arm.

See on the mountain's southern side, 115 Where the prospect opens wide, Where the ev'ning gilds the tide, How close and small the hedges lie! What streaks of meadows cross the eye! A step, methinks, may pass the stream, 120 So little distant dangers seem;

So we mistake the Future's face,
Ey'd thro' Hope's deluding glass;
As yon summits soft and fair,
Clad in colors of the air,

125 Which, to those who journey near,
Barren, brown, and rough appear;
Still we tread the same coarse way;
The present's still a cloudy day.
O may I with myself agree,
130 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 banish quiet from the soul;
135 'Tis thus the busy beat the air,
And misers gather wealth and care.

Now, ev'n now, my joys run high,
As on the mountain-turf I lie;
While the wanton Zephyr sings,
140 And in the vale perfumes his wings;
While the waters murmur deep;
While the shepherd charms1 his sheep;
While the birds unbounded fly,
And with music fill the sky,
145 Now, ev'n now, my joys run 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:
150 In vain ye search, she is not there;
In vain ye search the domes of Care!
Grass and flowers Quiet treads,
On the meads and mountain-heads,
Along with Pleasure close ally'd,
155 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.

THE FLEECE 1757 From BooK I

Ah, gentle shepherd, thine the lot to tend

400 of all, that feel distress, the most assail'd,

1 controls or calms by playing upon his pipe

Feeble, defenceless: lenient be thy care: But spread around thy tenderest diligence

In flow'ry spring-time, when the newdropt lamb,

Tottering with weakness by his mother's side,

405 Feels the fresh world about him; and each thorn,

Hillock, or furrow, trips his feeble feet: Oh, guard his meek sweet innocence from all

Th' innumerous ills, that rush around his life;

Mark the quick kite, with beak and talons prone,

410 Circling the skies to snatch him from the plain;

Observe the lurking crows; beware the brake,

There the sly fox the careless minute

waits;

Nor trust thy neighbor's dog, nor earth, nor sky:

Thy bosom to a thousand cares divide. 415 Eurus oft sings his hail; the tardy fields Pay not their promised food; and oft

the dam

O'er her weak twins with empty udder

mourns,

Or fails to guard, when the bold bird of

prey

Alights, and hops in many turns around, 420 And tires her also turning: to her aid

Be nimble, and the weakest in thine arms
Gently convey to the warm cote, and oft,
Between the lark's note and the nightin-
gale's,

His hungry bleating still with tepid milk: 425 In this soft office may thy children join, And charitable habits learn in sport: Nor yield him to himself, ere vernal airs Sprinkle thy little croft with daisy flowers:

Nor yet forget him: life has rising ills: 430 Various as ether1 is the pastoral care: Through slow experience, by a patient. breast,

The whole long lesson gradual is at-
tained,

By precept after precept, oft received
With deep attention: such as Nuceus

sings

435 To the full vale near Soare's enamor'd brook,

While all is silence: sweet Hincklean swain!

1 The substance supposed to fill the upper regions of space.