Poem by William Lisle Bowles

To Sir Walter Scott

Since last I saw that countenance so mild,
Slow-stealing age, and a faint line of care,
Had gently touched, methought, some features there;
Yet looked the man as placid as a child,
And the same voice,--whilst mingled with the throng,
Unknowing, and unknown, we passed along,--
That voice, a share of the brief time beguiled!
That voice I ne'er may hear again, I sighed
At parting,--wheresoe'er our various way,
In this great world,--but from the banks of Tweed,
As slowly sink the shades of eventide,
Oh! I shall hear the music of his reed,
Far off, and thinking of that voice, shall say,
A blessing rest upon thy locks of gray! 

1. On Leaving a Village in Scotland
2. The Rhine
3. Lockswell
4. The Bridge between Clifton and Leigh Woods
5. On an Unfortunate and Beautiful Woman

Thomas Pringle To Sir Walter Scott ("From deserts wild and many a pathless wood")

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