1756, he had a fon and three daughters living. His ecclefiaftical provifion was a long time but flender. His first patron, Mr. Harper, gave him, in 1741, Calthorp in Leicesterfhire of eighty pounds a year, on which he lived ten years, and then exchanged it for Belchford in Lincolnshire of feventy-five. His condition now began to mend. In 1752, Sir John Heathcote gave him Coningsby, of one hundred and twenty pounds a year; and afterwards the Chancellor added Kirkby, of one hundred and ten. He complains that the repair of the house at Coningsby, and other expences, took away the profit. About the time of his removal to Coningsby he published the Fleece, his greatest poetical work; of which I will not suppress a ludicrous ftory. Dodfley the bookfeller was one day mentioning it to a critical visiter, with more expectation of fuccefs than the other could easily admit. In the converfation the author's age was asked; and being reprefented as advanced in life, He will, faid the critick, be buried in woollen. VOL. IV. Z He He did not indeed long furvive that publication, nor long enjoy the increase of his preferments; for in 1758 he died. Dyer is not a poet of bulk or dignity fufficient to require an elaborate criticism. Grongar Hill is the happieft of his productions: it is not indeed very accurately written; but the scenes which it difplays are fo pleafing, the images which they raise fo welcome to the mind, and the reflections of the writer fo confonant to the general fenfe or experience of mankind, that when it is once read, it will be read again. The idea of the Ruins of Rome strikes more but pleases lefs, and the title raises greater expectation than the performance gratifies. Some paffages, however, are conceived with. the mind of a poet; as when, in the neighbourhood of dilapidating Edifices, he says, -At dead of night The hermit oft, 'midft his orifons, hears, Of The Fleece, which never became popular, and is now univerfally neglected, I can fay little that is likely to recall it to attention. The woolcomber and the poet appear to me fuch difcordant natures, that an attempt to bring them together is to couple the ferpent with the fowl. When Dyer, whose mind was not unpoetical, has done his utmost, by interesting his reader in our native commodity, by interfperfing rural imagery, and incidental digreffions, by cloathing small images in great words, and by all the writer's arts of delusion, the meanness naturally adhering, and the irreverence habitually annexed to trade and manufacture, fink him under infuperable oppreffion; and the disgust which blank verse, encumbering and encumbered, fuperadds to an unpleafing subject, foon repels the reader, however willing to be pleased. Let me however honeftly report whatever may counterbalance this weight of cenfure. I have been told that Akenfide, who, upon a poetical question, has a right to be heard, faid, "That he would regulate his opinion "of the reigning taste by the fate of Dyer's "Fleece; for, if that were ill received, he "should not think it any longer reasonable to expect fame from excellence." |