... Young day pours in apace,
And opens all the lawny prospect wide,
The dripping rock, the mountain's misty tops
Swell on the sight, and brighten with the dawn,
Blue through the dusk the smoking currents shine,"
or
"The clouds that pass,
For ever flushing round a summer sky";
or the rainbow in the Lines to the Memory of Sir Isaac Newton? Dyer may be somewhat prosaic, but he is not a poet to be despatched in a treatise on descriptive poetry, without citation, in a few contemptuous lines: how vivid is his picture of a calm in the tropics!—
"The dewy feather, on the cordage hung,