William Lisle Bowles

"While slowly wanders thy sequestered stream,     WAINSBECK, the mossy-scattered rocks among,     In fancy's ear making a plaintive song     To"

"On these white cliffs, that calm above the flood     Uprear their shadowing heads, and at their feet     Hear not the surge that has for ages be"

"Christian! for none who scorns that holy name      Can gaze with honest eyes on Southey's fame;      Christian! bow down thy head in humble fea"

"The mighty master waved his wand, and, lo!      On the astonished eye the glorious show      Burst like a vision! Spirit of the place!      Ha"

"How cheering are thy prospects, airy hill,     To him who, pale and languid, on thy brow     Pauses, respiring, and bids hail again     The upl"

"How shall I meet thee, Summer, wont to fill     My heart with gladness, when thy pleasant tide     First came, and on the Coomb's romantic side"

"Old Andrews of the hut is dead,     And many a child appears,     Whilst slowly "dust to dust" is read,     Around his grave in tears."

"Monastic and time-consecrated fane!      Thou hast put on thy shapely state again,      Almost august as in thy early day,      Ere ruthless H"

"Fair inmate of these ivied walls, beneath      Whose silent cloisters Ella sleeps in death,      Let loftier bards, in rich and glowing lays,"

"I stood upon the stone where ELA lay,     The widowed founder of these ancient walls,     Where fancy still on meek devotion calls,     Marking"

"If ever sea-maid, from her coral cave,     Beneath the hum of the great surge, has loved     To pass delighted from her green abode,     And, s"

"As o'er these hills I take my silent rounds,     Still on that vision which is flown I dwell,     On images I loved, alas, too well!     Now pa"

"Sainted old man, for more than eighty years,      Thee - tranquilly and stilly-creeping - age,      Led to the confines of the sepulchre,"

"Oh! lend that lute, sweet Archimage, to me!     Enough of care and heaviness     The weary lids of life depress,     And doubly blest that gent"

"The Norman armament beneath thy rocks, St Valerie,      Is moored; and, streaming to the morn, three hundred banners fly,      Of crimson silk;"

"Argument.     Ocean Cave, Spanish Captive, Wild Indian Maid, Genius of Andes, and Spirits.     'Tis dawn: the distant Andes' rocky spires,"

"Itchin! when I behold thy banks again,     Thy crumbling margin, and thy silver breast,     On which the self-same tints still seem to rest,"

"Oh! mark the withered leaves that fall     In silence to the ground;     Upon the human heart they call,     And preach without a sound."

"Artist, I own thy genius; but the touch     May be too restless, and the glare too much:     And sure none ever saw a landscape shine,     Bask"

"If ever sea-maid, from her coral cave, Beneath the hum of the great surge, has loved To pass delighted from her green abode, And, seated on a summer b"

"As slow I climb the cliff's ascending side,     Much musing on the track of terror past,     When o'er the dark wave rode the howling blast,"

"Spirit of Death! whose outstretched pennons dread     Wave o'er the world beneath their shadow spread;     Who darkly speedest on thy destined w"

"Cherwell! how pleased along thy willowed edge     Erewhile I strayed, or when the morn began     To tinge the distant turret's golden fan,"

"The castle clock had tolled midnight: With mattock and with spade, And silent, by the torches' light, His corse in earth we laid. The coffin bore his"

"O TIME! who know'st a lenient hand to lay Softest on sorrow's wound, and slowly thence (Lulling to sad repose the weary sense) The faint pang stealest"

"While summer airs scarce breathe along the tide,     Oft pausing, up the mountain's craggy side     We climb, how beautiful, how still, how clea"

"Are you not tired, you poor old man!     The drops are on your brow;     Your labour with the sun began,     And you are labouring now!"

"Frown ever opposite, the angel cried,     Who, with an earthquake's might and giant hand,     Severed these riven rocks, and bade them stand"

"Oh, no; I would not leave thee, my sweet home,     Decked with the mantling woodbine and the rose,     And slender woods that the still scene in"

"INTRODUCTION.     The circumstance of the late critical controversy with Lord Byron having recalled my attention to a poem, sketched some years"

"The morning wakes in shadowy mantle gray,         The darksome woods their glimmering skirts unfold,         Prone from the cliff the falcon"

"Come, and where these runnels fall,     Listen to my madrigal!     Far from all sounds of all the strife,     That murmur through the walks of"

"Lo! where youth and beauty lie,     Cold within the tomb!     As the spring's first violets die,     Withered in their bloom.     O'er the yo"

""And wept to see the paths of life divide." - Shenstone.      Here the companions of our careless prime,      Whom fortune's various ways have"

"How soothing sound the gentle airs that move     The innumerable leaves, high overhead,     When autumn first, from the long avenue,     That l"

"'Twas when, O meekest eve! thy shadows dim      Were slowly stealing round,      With more impassioned sound      Divine Cecilia sang her vesp"

"When evening listened to the dipping oar,      Forgetting the loud city's ceaseless roar,      By the green banks, where Thames, with conscious"

"God said, Let there be light, and there was light!     At once the glorious sun, at his command,     From space illimitable, void and dark,"

"How shall I praise thee, Beaumont, whose nice skill     Can mould the soft and shadowy scene at will;     Chastise to harmony each gaudy ray,"

"Pure fount, that, welling from this wooded hill,      Dost wander forth, as into life's wide vale,      Thou to the traveller dost tell no tale"

"Yes! from mine eyes the tears unbidden start,     As thee, my country, and the long-lost sight     Of thy own cliffs, that lift their summits wh"

"When rain-drops, glistening from the thatch,     Like drops of silver run,     Our old blind grandame lifts the latch,     To feel the cheerin"

"On God, whose eyes are over all,     Who shows to all a father's care,     First, with each voice, we children call,     And humbly raise our"

"Turn to Britannia's triumphs on the main:     See Nelson, pale and fainting, 'mid the slain,     Whilst Victory sighs, stern in the garb of war,"

"Go, then, and join the murmuring city's throng!     Me thou dost leave to solitude and tears;     To busy phantasies, and boding fears,     Les"

"How cheerful in the winter's night,     As down the lane I stray;     The blacksmith's forge shoots out its light,     And shines across the w"

"Where were ye, nymphs, when Daphnis drooped with love?     In fair Peneus' Tempe, or the grove     Of Pindus! Nor your pastimes did ye keep,"

"Who comes (my soul no longer doubt),     Rising from earth's wormy sod,     And whilst ten thousand angels sing,     Ascends - ascends to heav"

"Age, thou the loss of health and friends shalt mourn!     But thou art passing to that night-still bourne,     Where labour sleeps. The linnet,"

"Argument.     Evening and Night of the same Day.     Anselmo's story, Converted Indians, Confession of the Wandering     Minstrel, Night-Scen"

"Oh, what is this which shines so bright,     And in the lonely place     Hangs out his small green lamp at night,     The dewy bank to grace!"

"The swallows, at the close of day,      When autumn shone with fainter ray,      Around the chimney circling flew,      Ere yet they bade a lo"

"Languid, and sad, and slow, from day to day     I journey on, yet pensive turn to view,     Where the rich landscape gleams with softer hue,"

"Argument.     The City of Conception, The City of Penco, Castle, Lautaro, Wild Indian Maid, Zarinel, Missionary.     The second moon had now b"

"This poem was first published under the name of "One of the Living Poets of Great Britain." I have thought it best to revise and publish it in my"

"When will the grave shelter thy few gray hairs,     O aged man! Thy sand is almost run,     And many a year, in vain, to meet the sun,     Thin"

"O sovereign Master! who with lonely state         Dost rule as in some isle's enchanted land,         On whom soft airs and shadowy spirits"

"Oh, stay, harmonious and sweet sounds, that die     In the long vaultings of this ancient fane!     Stay, for I may not hear on earth again"

"If rich designs of sumptuous art may please,     Or Nature's loftier views, august and old,     Stranger! behold this spreading scene; behold"

"As one who, long by wasting sickness worn,     Weary has watched the lingering night, and heard     Unmoved the carol of the matin bird     Sal"