The Missionary. Introduction

When o'er the Atlantic wild, rocked by the blast,
Sad Lusitania's exiled sovereign passed,
Reft of her pomp, from her paternal throne
Cast forth, and wandering to a clime unknown,
To seek a refuge on that distant shore,
That once her country's legions dyed with gore;
Sudden, methought, high towering o'er the flood,
Hesperian world! thy mighty genius stood;
Where spread, from cape to cape, from bay to bay,
Serenely blue, the vast Pacific lay;
And the huge Cordilleras to the skies
With all their burning summits seemed to rise.
Then the stern spirit spoke, and to his voice
The waves and woods replied: Mountains, rejoice!
Thou solitary sea, whose billows sweep
The margin of my forests, dark and deep,
Rejoice! the hour is come: the mortal blow,
That smote the golden shrines of Mexico,
In Europe is avenged; and thou, proud Spain,
Now hostile hosts insult thy own domain;
Now Fate, vindictive, rolls, with refluent flood,
Back on thy shores the tide of human blood,
Think of my murdered millions! of the cries
That once I heard from all my kingdoms rise;
Of Famine's feeble plaint, of Slavery's tear;
Think, too, if Valour, Freedom, Fame, be dear,
How my Antarctic sons, undaunted, stood,
Exacting groan for groan, and blood for blood;
And shouted, (may the sounds be hailed by thee!)
Tyrants, the virtuous and the brave are free!

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

The Missionary. Canto Fourth

William Lisle Bowles, Simple Poetry

Lockswell.

William Lisle Bowles, Simple Poetry

Epitaph On Robert Southey.

William Lisle Bowles, Simple Poetry

The Mower. (From The Villager's Verse-Book.)

William Lisle Bowles, Simple Poetry

English

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The Missionary. Canto Second.

Argument.

The Second Day.

Night, Spirit of the Andes, Valdivia, Lautaro, Missionary, The
Hermitage.

The night was still and clear, when, o'er the snows,
Andes! thy melancholy Spirit rose,
A shadow stern and sad: he stood alone,
Upon the topmost mountain's burning cone;
And whilst his eyes shone dim, through surging smoke,
Thus to the spirits of the fire he spoke:

Ye, who tread the hidden deeps,
Where the silent earthquake sleeps;
Ye, who track the sulphurous tide,
Or on hissing vapours ride,                                                                    
Spirits, come!
From worlds of subterraneous night;
From fiery realms of lurid light;
From the ore's unfathomed bed;
From the lava's whirlpools red,
Spirits, co...

William Lisle Bowles

Battle Of Corruna. (Death Of Captain Cooke)

The tide of fate rolls on! heart-pierced and pale,
The gallant soldier lies,^[1] nor aught avail,
The shield, the sword, the spirit of the brave,
From rapine's armed hand thy vales to save,
Land of illustrious heroes, who, of yore,
Drenched the same plains with the invader's gore,
Stood frowning, in the front of death, and hurled
Defiance to the conquerors^[2] of the world!
Oh, when we hear the agonising tale
Of those who, faint, and fugitive, and pale,
Saw hourly, harassed through their long retreat,
Some worn companion sinking at their feet,
Yet even in danger and from toil more bold,
Back on their gathering foes the tide of battle rolled;
While tears of pity mingle with applause,
On the dread scene in silence let us pause;
Yes, pause, an...

William Lisle Bowles

The Missionary. Canto Fifth.

Argument.

Ocean Cave, Spanish Captive, Wild Indian Maid, Genius of Andes, and Spirits.

'Tis dawn: the distant Andes' rocky spires,
One after one, have caught the orient fires.
Where the dun condor shoots his upward flight,
His wings are touched with momentary light.
Meantime, beneath the mountains' glittering heads,
A boundless ocean of gray vapour spreads,
That o'er the champaign, stretching far below,
Moves now, in clustered masses, rising slow,
Till all the living landscape is displayed
In various pomp of colour, light, and shade,
Hills, forests, rivers, lakes, and level plain,
Lessening in sunshine to the southern main.
The Llama's fleece fumes with ascending dew;
The gem-like humming-birds their toils renew;
And there, by the wild river's devi...

William Lisle Bowles

Song To The God Of War. (The Missionary.)

By thy habitation dread,
In the valley of the dead,
Where no sun, nor day, nor night,
Breaks the red and dusky light;
By the grisly troops, that ride,
Of slaughtered Spaniards, at thy side,--
Slaughtered by the Indian spear,
Mighty Epananum, hear!
Hark, the battle! Hark, the din!
Now the deeds of Death begin!
The Spaniards come, in clouds! above,
I hear their hoarse artillery move!
Spirits of our fathers slain,
Haste, pursue the dogs of Spain!
The noise was in the northern sky!
Haste, pursue! They fly--they fly!
Now from the cavern's secret cell,
Where the direst phantoms dwell,
See they rush, and, riding high,
Break the moonlight as they fly;
And, on the shadowed plain beneath,
Shoot, unseen, the shafts of Death!
O'er the devoted...

William Lisle Bowles

The Battle Of The Nile.[1]

    Shout! for the Lord hath triumphed gloriously!
    Upon the shores of that renowned land,
    Where erst His mighty arm and outstretched hand
    He lifted high,
    And dashed, in pieces dashed the enemy;
    Upon that ancient coast,
    Where Pharaoh's chariot and his host
    He cast into the deep,
    Whilst o'er their silent pomp He bid the swoll'n sea sweep;
    Upon that eastern shore,
    That saw His awful arm revealed of yore,
    Again hath He arisen, and opposed
    His foes' defying vaunt: o'er them the deep hath closed!

    Shades of mighty chiefs of yore,
    Who triumphed on the self-same shore:
    Ammon, who first o'er ocean's empire wide
    Didst bid the bold bark stem the roaring tide;
    Sesac, who from the East to farthes...

William Lisle Bowles

The Missionary. Preface To The Second Edition.[1]

The Missionary.

Amor patriæ ratione potentior omni.




It is not necessary to relate the causes which induced me to publish this poem without a name.

The favour with which it has been received may make me less diffident in avowing it; and, as a second edition has been generally called for, I have endeavoured to make it, in every respect, less unworthy of the public eye.

I have availed myself of every sensible objection, the most material of which was the circumstance, that the Indian maid, described in the first book, had not a part assigned to her of sufficient interest in the subsequent events of the poem, and that the character of the Missionary was not sufficiently professional.

The single circumstance that a Spanish commander, with his army in South America, was de...

William Lisle Bowles