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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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108

ODE III. THE RANSOM.

EGIL.
King, I sail'd by passage swift,
Borne across the western sea:
Teems my breast with Odin's gift;
And that gift I bear to thee.
109

England's chief, and Norway's pride,
Fame has far thy triumphs told;
Long in bray of battle tried,
Eagle swift, and lion bold.
But, tho' valour claims renown,
Minstrels have the flower of song:
They must wreathe the lasting crown,
If you wish for glory long.
Song the mighty gods inspire;
Song can vanquish mortal strife:
Do my crimes provoke thine ire?
Hear my song; but spare my life.
Well you know to guide the spear;
Much you love the clash of arms;
And where Danger stalks more near,
Fiercer fire your bosom warms.
Strong your arm, and fix'd your eye;
You with skill can twang the bow;
Where your thirsty arrows fly,
Falls some haughty Daneman low.
Where the shields resounding move,
There attend the raven-brood:
There the grim-wolf loves to rove,
Gorg'd with many a warrior's blood.
110

Nora's sister on the plain,
Cannot fill your soul with dread:
You can traverse hills of slain;
You can smile mid piles of dead.
On the dark heath do you stray,
Where pale ghosts arise to view?
How should they your soul affray?
None but Norway's foes you slew.
Do your ships o'er ocean sail?
Sure success must still attend;
Strong the waves, and swift the gale;
Great Niorder is your friend.
Where opposing foes combine,
First to follow, last in flight:
Where embattling warriors shine,
Eric tow'rs a god in sight.
Thus you traverse sea and land;
Conquest on your banners waits;
All who dare your arm withstand,
Down descend to Hela's gates.
111

Shall a warrior, chief of men,
Me, poor helpless minstrel, slay?
Springs the Lion from his den,
On a feeble insect prey?
Yes! I slew of youth the flower;
Norway's hope and pride I slew:
And at silent midnight hour,
Rises oft his ghost to view.
But, live, prince, in high renown,
Strong the stock, and new the stem:
And let mercy in thy crown,
Be the brightest purest gem!
Warrior, King, great Eric, hear;
Odin loves the minstrel throng;
In my hand his gifts I bear;
Spare the minstrel for his song.

ERIC.
Yes! you slew—too well I know;—
Do you know how parents grieve?
I have drank the cup of woe;
Shall the murd'rer hope to live?
Where the reeking sword appears;
Where blood flows in torrents warm;
112

Midst a gathering host of spears,
Dauntless I can brave the storm.
I have stood midst heaps of slain;
Seen a thousand warriors die;
And as sigh'd the minstrel's strain,
Heav'd the sympathetic sigh.
I have lost, too, many a friend,
Much have mourn'd o'er nature's plan;
True and faithful to the end,
Tho' a king, I felt as man.
Ills like these I learn to bear:—
But, to lose a blameless son,—
By a traitor murder'd—ere
Half his course of life was run—!
Think you, as your numbers flow,
Warriors breasts are made of steel?
—Warriors, tell him;—well ye know
How it is, that parents feel.
Had some prince of high renown,
Caus'd in Eric half this smart,
I had struggled to his throne,
Pierc'd the tiger thro' his heart.
113

Had the flow'r of Norway's race,
Sprung from purest, noblest blood;—
Soon, within some hideous place,
Serpents soon, had suck'd his blood.
Yes! by Odin's name I swear,
Name I never durst profane,
Like him fix'd—a mortal prayer
Might have sued to me in vain.
But since Odin's gift you bring,
'Tis a language from the skies:
Well the wreath becomes a king;
And your ransom be the prize.
Live then, Egil, go in peace;
Live, oh! bard, to raise my name:
Mine be conquest's proud increase;
Thine to spread the conq'ror's fame.

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