Poem by William Lisle Bowles

On Leaving a Village in Scotland

    Clysdale! as thy romantic vales I leave,
      And bid farewell to each retiring hill,
      Where musing memory seems to linger still,
    Tracing the broad bright landscape; much I grieve
    That, mingled with the toiling crowd, no more
      I may return your varied views to mark,
      Of rocks amid the sunshine towering dark,
    Of rivers winding wild,[1] or mountains hoar,
    Or castle gleaming on the distant steep!--
      Yet many a look back on thy hills I cast,
      And many a softened image of the past
    Sadly combine, and bid remembrance keep,
    To soothe me with fair scenes, and fancies rude,
    When I pursue my path in solitude.

1. The Rhine
2. Avenue in Savernake Forest
3. On Resigning a Scholarship of Trinity College, Oxford, and Retiring to a Country Curacy
4. Sonnet 9. O Poverty!
5. Cadland, Southampton River

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