Analysis of Elegy Written At Hotwells, Bristol
William Lisle Bowles 1762 (King's Sutton) – 1850
INSCRIBED TO THE REV. W. HOWLEY.
The morning wakes in shadowy mantle gray,
The darksome woods their glimmering skirts unfold,
Prone from the cliff the falcon wheels her way,
And long and loud the bell's slow chime is tolled.
The reddening light gains fast upon the skies,
And far away the glistening vapours sail,
Down the rough steep the accustomed hedger hies,
And the stream winds in brightness through the vale.
Mark how those riven rocks on either shore
Uplift their bleak and furrowed fronts on high;
How proudly desolate their foreheads hoar,
That meet the earliest sunbeams of the sky!
Bound for yon dusky mart, with pennants gay,
The tall bark, on the winding water's line,
Between the riven cliffs slow plies her way,
And peering on the sight the white sails shine.
Alas! for those by drooping sickness worn,
Who now come forth to meet the cheering ray;
And feel the fragrance of the tepid morn
Round their torn breasts and throbbing temples play!
Perhaps they muse with a desponding sigh
On the cold vault that shall their bones inurn;
Whilst every breeze seems, as it whispers by,
To breathe of comfort never to return.
Yet oft, as sadly thronging dreams arise,
Awhile forgetful of their pain they gaze,
A transient lustre lights their faded eyes,
And o'er their cheek the tender hectic plays.
The purple morn that paints with sidelong gleam
The cliff's tall crest, the waving woods that ring
With songs of birds rejoicing in the beam,
Touch soft the wakeful nerve's according string.
Then at sad Meditation's silent hour
A thousand wishes steal upon the heart;
And, whilst they meekly bend to Heaven's high power,
Ah! think 'tis hard, 'tis surely hard to part:
To part from every hope that brought delight,
From those that loved them, those they loved so much!
Then Fancy swells the picture on the sight,
And softens every scene at every touch.
Sweet as the mellowed woods beneath the moon,
Remembrance lends her soft-uniting shades;
'Some natural tears she drops, but wipes them soon:'--
The world retires, and its dim prospect fades!
Airs of delight, that soothe the aching sense;
Waters of health, that through yon caverns glide;
Oh! kindly yet your healing powers dispense,
And bring back feeble life's exhausted tide!
Perhaps to these gray rocks and mazy springs
Some heart may come, warmed with the purest fire;
For whom bright Fancy plumes her radiant wings,
And warbling Muses wake the lonely lyre.
Some orphan Maid, deceived in early youth,
Pale o'er yon spring may hang in mute distress;
Who dream of faith, of happiness, and truth,
Of love--that Virtue would protect and bless.
Some musing Youth in silence there may bend,
Untimely stricken by sharp Sorrow's dart;
For friendship formed, yet left without a friend,
And bearing still the arrow at his heart.
Such was lamented RUSSELL'S early doom,
The gay companion of our stripling prime;
Ev'n so he sank unwept into the tomb,
And o'er his head closed the dark gulph of time.
Hither he came, a wan and weary guest,
A softening balm for many a wound to crave;
And wooed the sunshine to his aching breast,
Which now seems smiling on his verdant grave!
He heard the whispering winds that now I hear,
As, boding much, along these hills he passed;
Yet ah! how mournful did they meet his ear
On that sad morn he heard them for the last!
So sinks the scene, like a departed dream,
Since late we sojourned blythe in Wykeham's bowers,
Or heard the merry bells by Isis' stream,
And thought our way was strewed with fairy flowers!
Of those with whom we played upon the lawn
Of early life, in the fresh morning played;
Alas! how many, since that vernal dawn,
Like thee, poor RUSSELL, 'neath the turf are laid!
Joyous a while they wandered hand in hand,
By friendship led along the springtide plain;
How oft did Fancy wake her transports bland,
And on the lids the glistening tear detain!
I yet survive, now musing other song,
Than that which early pleased my vacant years;
Thinking how days and hours have passed along,
Marked by much pleasure some, and some by tears!
Thankful, that to these verdant scenes I owe
That he whom late I saw all drooping pale,
Raised from the couch of sickness and of woe,
Now lives with me these mantling views to hail.
Thankful, that still the landscape beaming bright,
Of pendant mountain, or of woodland gray,
Can wake the wonted sense of pure delight,
And
Scheme | Text too long |
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Poetic Form | |
Metre | 0110110010 01010100101 0111100101 1101010101 0101011111 011110101 0101010011 10110010101 0011010101 1111011101 1011010111 110100111 1101001101 111111101 0111010101 0101011101 0101010111 0111110101 1111110101 0101010101 1111010101 01111011 101111111 11001111101 1111010101 111101101 0101011111 0101011101 01011010101 010111111 0111010111 1111010001 110110101 11111010 0101010101 011101110110 1111110111 11110011101 1111111111 1101010101 010100111001 1101010101 0101010101 11001111111 0101011101 1101110101 1011111101 11011101001 0111010101 011111011 11111101010 11110101001 01001010101 1101010101 11011110101 1111110001 1111010101 1101010111 010101111 1101110101 0101010111 1101010101 01010110101 1111110101 01011101111 1011010101 010011100111 010111101 1111011101 11010011111 111011111 1111011111 1111111101 1101100101 111110110 1101011101 011011111010 1111110101 1101001101 0111011101 1111010111 1001110101 110101011 1111010011 01010100101 1101110101 1111011101 10110101101 1111010111 1011110111 1111111101 1101110011 111111111 101101101 110101111 110111101 0 |
Closest metre | Iambic pentameter |
Characters | 4,280 |
Words | 763 |
Sentences | 32 |
Stanzas | 25 |
Stanza Lengths | 1, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4 |
Lines Amount | 97 |
Letters per line (avg) | 35 |
Words per line (avg) | 8 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 138 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 30 |
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 3:53 min read
- 86 Views
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"Elegy Written At Hotwells, Bristol" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/40869/elegy-written-at-hotwells%2C-bristol>.
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