I climb the highest cliff; I hear the sound Of dashing waves; I gaze intent around; I mark the gray cope, and the hollowness Of heaven, and the great sun, that comes to bless…
Bowles was born at Northamptonshire and educated at Trinity College, Oxford, receiving his Batchelor of Arts in 1786 and Master of Arts in 1792. He was ordained deacon in 1788. He served as curate at Wiltshire (1788), rector at Chicklade (1795), Dumbleton (1797) and Bremhill, Wiltshire (1804). He became prebendary (1804) and canon residentiary (1828) at Salisbury Cathedral. Though he mostly led a city life as a clergyman and magistrate, his writings reveal a longing for rural retirement. Though his first work was well received by the early romantic poets, most of his work is no longer read. He is remembered for his long public argument with Byron, known as the "Pope-Bowles controversy", in which Byron, along with others like Thomas Campbell, ardently defended Pope's greatness and true rank among poets.)
William Lisle Bowles şiirleri
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There is strange music in the stirring wind, When lowers the autumnal eve, and all alone To the dark wood's cold covert thou art gone, Whose ancient trees on the rough slope reclin…
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Oh, hadst thou fall'n, brave youth! on that proud day, When our victorious fleet o'er the red surge Rolled in terrific glory, thou hadst fall'n Most honoured; and Remembrance, whil…
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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 inclose, For yon magnificent and ample dome…
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Age, thou the loss of health and friends shalt mourn! But thou art passing to that night-still bourne, Where labour sleeps. The linnet, chattering loud To the May morn, shall sing;…
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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 Was heard the distant cuckoo's hollow bill!…
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THE BRIDGE BETWEEN CLIFTON AND LEIGH WOODS. Frown ever opposite, the angel cried, Who, with an earthquake's might and giant hand,…
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To him, who, many a night upon the main, At mid-watch, from the bounding vessel's side, Shivering, has listened to the rocking tide, Oh, how delightful smile thy views again,…
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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 past, and but remembered like sweet sounds…
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Thou, whose stern spirit loves the storm, That, borne on Terror's desolating wings, Shakes the high forest, or remorseless flings The shivered surge; when rising griefs deform…
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I shall behold far off thy towering crest, Proud mountain! from thy heights as slow I stray Down through the distant vale my homeward way, I shall behold upon thy rugged breast,…
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Bereave me not of Fancy's shadowy dreams, Which won my heart, or when the gay career Of life begun, or when at times a tear Sat sad on memory's cheek--though loftier themes…
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AFTER A TEMPESTUOUS VOYAGE. As slow I climb the cliff's ascending side, Much musing on the track of terror past,…
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How soothing sound the gentle airs that move The innumerable leaves, high overhead, When autumn first, from the long avenue, That lifts its arching height of ancient shade,…
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Ye holy Towers that shade the wave-worn steep, Long may ye rear your aged brows sublime, Though, hurrying silent by, relentless Time Assail you, and the winds of winter sweep…
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