On Seeing A Bust Of R. B. Sheridan, From A Cast Taken After Death.[209]

Alas, poor Sheridan! when first we met,
'Twas 'mid a smiling circle, and thine eye,
That flashed with eloquent hilarity
And playful fancy, I remember yet
Freshly as yesterday. The gay and fair,
The young and beautiful, - now in their graves -
Surrounded us; while on the lucid wave
Of Hampton's waters, to the morning air
The streamer softly played of our light boat,
Which seemed as on a magic sea to float.

I saw thee after in this crowd of life,
Conflicting, but yet blandly, with its strife.
As the still car of Time rolled on, thy cheek
Wore the same smile, yet with a trace more weak.
Lone sorrow came as life declined, and care,
And age, with slowly furrowing line, was there.

I could have spared this fearful sight! Most strange
Is the eventful tale of mortal change,
Inevitable; but death, brought so nigh,
In form so tangible, harrows the eye.
As all the past floats like a cloud away,
Alas, poor Sheridan! I turn and say,
Not without feelings which such sights impart,
Sad, but instructive, to the Christian's heart!

May 18, 1826.

William Lisle Bowles

William Lisle Bowles was an English cleric, poet, and critic who was born on 24th September 1762 and died on 7th April 1850. He is best known for his sonnets, which were highly praised by the Romantic poets. Bowles's work significantly influenced Samuel Taylor Coleridge and William Wordsworth. Besides his poetry, he wrote extensively on literary criticism and editing. Bowles spent much of his clerical career in Wiltshire and Gloucestershire.

William Lisle Bowles

On First Hearing Caradori Sing.

William Lisle Bowles, Simple Poetry

The April Shower. (From The Villager's Verse-Book.)

William Lisle Bowles, Simple Poetry

Inscribed To The Rev. W. Howley.[1]

William Lisle Bowles, Simple Poetry

Evening

William Lisle Bowles, Simple Poetry

English

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"And wept to see the paths of life divide." - Shenstone.

Here the companions of our careless prime,
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Since that fair dawn when Hope her vernal song
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O aged man! Thy sand is almost run,
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When Time a mellowing tint has thrown
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