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Poetics

Or, a series of poems, and disquisitions on poetry. By George Dyer
Dyer, George (1755-1841)

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VOL. I.
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ODES.
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BOOK THE FIRST.
 I. 
ODE I. VISIONS.
 III. 
ODE III. ON REVISITING THE SCENES OF EARLIER LIFE.
 IV. 
ODE IV. ON THE APPROACH OF SPRING.
 V. 
ODE V. INDEPENDENCE.
 VI. 
ODE VI. TO JOHN HAMMOND, A. M. OF FENSTANTON, HUNTINGDONSHIRE.
 VII. 
ODE VII. THE RECONCILIATION.
 VIII. 
ODE VIII. INVOCATION TO MAY.
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BOOK THE SECOND.
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ODE I. THE RACE OF HEROES.
 I. 
I.
 II. 
II.
 III. 
III.
 II. 
ODE II. PEACE AND FREEDOM.
 III. 
ODE III. TO MRS. OPIE, WHEN MISS ALDERSON,
 IV. 
ODE IV. TO AN INFANT,
 VI. 
ODE VI. ON CONTEMPLATING THE WEALTH AND AGGRANDIZEMENT FLOWING FROM CERTAIN TRANSACTIONS IN INDIA.
 X. 
ODE X. ON THE EVENING.
 XI. 
ODE XI. CUPID'S ADDRESS;
 XII. 
ODE XII. ON SEEING A LADY'S PORTRAIT.
 XIII. 
ODE XIII. LOVE OF PLEASURE.
 XIV. 
ODE XIV. THE MUSIC OF THE GROVES.
 XV. 
ODE XV. GAIA, OR MY OWN HONEST LANDLADY IN A COUNTRY VILLAGE.
 XVI. 
ODE XVI. THE PHILOSOPHY OF EVIL.
 XVII. 
ODE XVII. ADDRESS TO THE CAM.
 XVIII. 
ODE XVIII. TO A LADY, WHO HAD RALLIED THE AUTHOR IN THE MONTHLY MAGAZINE, FOR HIS REJECTION OF TITLES.
 XXI. 
ODE XXI. TO NARCISSA.
 XXII. 
ODE XXII. TO MELANCHOLY.
 XXIII. 
ODE XXIII. MEDITATED IN THE CLOISTERS OF CHRIST'S HOSPITAL.
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BOOK THE THIRD.
 II. 
ODE II. ON THE CLOSE OF AUTUMN, AFTER AN EXCURSION THROUGH HERTFORDSHIRE AND ESSEX.
 III. 
ODE III. THE RANSOM.
 IV. 
ODE IV. ON SCIENCE.
 VI. 
ODE VI. TO AN ENTHUSIAST.
 VIII. 
ODE VIII. ON PEACE.
 IX. 
ODE IX. ON CONSIDERING THE UNSETTLED STATE OF EUROPE, AND THE OPPOSITION WHICH HAD BEEN MADE TO ATTEMPTS FOR THE ABOLITION OF THE SLAVE-TRADE.
 XII. 
ODE XII. WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OF JOHN HOWARD, AT HIS VILLA AT CARDINGTON, IN BEDFORDSHIRE.
 XIII. 
ODE XIII. TO THE NIGHTINGALE.
 XV. 
ODE XV. TO A MINIATURE PAINTER,
 XXI. 
ODE XXI. AN EPITAPH FOR A HUMAN BEING.
 XXII. 
ODE XXII. TO A HUMBLE FRIEND.
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BOOK THE FOURTH.
 II. 
ODE II. AN ENGLISH SAPPHIC, IN PRAISE OF SNUFF AND TOBACCO.
 III. 
ODE III. TO MUSIC.
 IV. 
ODE IV. ON WINE.
 V. 
ODE V. AFTER VISITING DRYBURGH ABBEY, IN BERWICKSHIRE.
 VI. 
ODE VI. THE CHARM OF MUSIC.
 VII. 
ODE VII. HYMN TO CHARITY.
 VIII. 
ODE VIII. THE SAILOR.
 IX. 
ODE IX. THE TRIUMPH OF POETRY.
 X. 
ODE X. A SONG.
 XI. 
ODE XI. ON THE DEATH OF FRIENDS, AND THE HAVOC OF WAR.
 XII. 
ODE XII. HYMN TO HEALTH.
 XIII. 
ODE XIII.
 XIV. 
ODE XIV.

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62

ODE X. ON THE EVENING.

ADDRESSED TO THE LATE REVEREND MR. THEOPHILUS LINDSEY.

Hail! nurse of thought, with brow serene;
Who, as the sun, so wont, retires,
And leaves the sky to milder fires,
Tingest with shadowy forms the fading scene,
Thee woo I, sober Eve; ere yet that sun
Hath his last beam on ocean shed,
Ere he reclines to rest his head,
Slow-sinking in the west, his course imperial run.
Emerging now from opening glade,
I come to watch thy purpling skies,
As doubtful tints alternate rise,
'Till the last blushes mellow into shade.
Nor in the meekness of its light,
Less will I greet thy faithful star;
Nor, where enthron'd on silver car,
She claims her ancient rule, the Queen supreme of night.
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Or now on rustic seat reclin'd,
I hear the brook, which skirts the wood,
Or nightingale of plaintive mood,
Sounds to the scene attun'd, and to the musing mind:
Or from the humble cot, or lonely farm,
The barking watch-dog's voice I hear;
Or friendly voice from hamlet near,
Breaking from solitude all of the selfish charm.
Still then, fair eve, thy stay prolong,
Ere night enwrap the changing scene,
Ere sleeps the sport-encircled green,
Oh! let thy softness steal into my song.
So generous youths, and virgins, young and gay,
Who yet estrang'd to grief or care,
Ask not the sadly plaintive air,
'Midst many a verse which weeps, may read one pleasing lay.
Or if, perchance, the church-yard drear,
Where slowly tolls the passing bell,
And seems in lengthen'd notes to tell
The death of village swain, may claim a tear;
Lindsey might read the sober pensive line;
For he unchanging, and too good to grieve,
Serene as the last tint of gentle eve,
From life's fair pleasing scenes can see his sun decline.
For, what tho' life's fair scenes decline,
Nor sun, nor star, nor silver beam
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Of moon, nor rock, nor hill, nor sea, nor stream,
Thro' heaven or earth, again to mortal shine?
Still goodness, like the purpling ray,
Up-darting from the setting sun,
When his diurnal course is run,
Leaves light behind, which may not soon decay.
But, when this world shall disappear,
If there remain worlds still more bright,
Which ask no renovated light,
Where shines the sun, unwearied, thro' the year;
Then Virtue, tho' quick-footed Time
Run out in trackless path his feeble thread,
Shall to those worlds pursue her steadier tread,
New life shall there begin, and bless that brighter clime.
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