With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, AS I LAYE A-THYNKYNGE. REV. RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM.-1788-1845. [THE "Ingoldsby Legends" were originally contributed to "Bentley's Miscellany," and have for some years been recognised as a necessary household possession, a companionable work for nearly every humour, grave or gay. Abounding with real fun, witty play on words, and grotesque rhyme, they at once remind one of the author's friends and contemporaries Hook and Hood, whilst their legendary character and occasional stroke of a deeper pathetic note and graver sentiment, indicate a trace of the clerical dignitary in their author, although it must be confessed that the author's profession is more generally lost sight of. It would be impossible to convey an adequate idea of the attractions of these amusing rhymes, and difficult to select a Favourite where all are Favourites; we therefore quote the last poem in the book, and it will suffice to say that the whole fund of entertainment is now compressed into the publication of a single volume at a price that places it within the reach of all. Mr. Barham was a native of Canterbury, where he received his early education, which he completed at Brasenose College, Oxford. He held the appointment of Rector of St. Augustin and St. Faith; and was a minor canon of St. Paul's, up to the day of his death occupying the house attached to the Canonry of the Rev. Sidney Smith, with whom, as it may be imagined, he was for many years on terms of cordial friendship, and whom in many respects he much resembled.] AS I laye a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, Merrie sang the Birde as she sat upon the spraye; There came a noble Knyghte, With his hauberke shynynge brighte, And his gallant heart was lyghte, Free and gay; As I laye a-thynkynge, he rode upon his waye. As I laye a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, There seemed a crimson plain Where a gallant Knyghte lay slayne, Ran free, As I laye a-thynkynge, most pitiful to see! As I laye a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, And a gentil youth was nyghe, As I laye a-thynkynge, her hearte was gladsome now. As I laye a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, But a maiden rent her haire, "That I was borne !" As I lay a-thynkynge, she perished forlorne. As I laye a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, And his face was meek and mild, On his sire; As I lay a-thynkynge, a Cherub mote admire. But I lay a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, And sadly sang the Birde as it perched upon a bier; That joyous smile was gone, And the face was white and wan, As the downe upon the Swan Doth appear, As I lay a-thynkynge-oh! bitter flowed the tear! As I lay a-thynkynge, the golden sun was sinking, With a thousand gorgeous dyes, While soaring to the skies, 'Mid the stars she seemed to rise, As to her nest; As I lay a-thynkynge, her meaning was exprest : "Follow, follow me away, ABOU BEN ADHEM. BY LEIGH HUNT. -1784-1859. [THE son of an American barrister, who settled in England, and became a clergyman, Leigh Hunt was born at Southgate, in Middlesex, and educated at Christ's Hospital. In connection with his brother he established the "Examiner" newspaper in 1808, and became the companion and literary associate of Coleridge, Lamb, Campbell, Hook, and later of Byron, Shelley, and others. As a literary critic, Mr. Hunt's reputation was very great, both in England and America; and as an author, his numerous volumes of essays, poems, and sonnets, are established favourites. Amongst these may be mentioned "The Indicator," "Jar of Honey from Mount Hybla,' "Imagination and Fancy," "Old Court Suburb," "The Book of the Sonnet," &c.] ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase !) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, An angel writing in a book of gold: Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the Presence in the room he said, "What writest thou?"-The vision raised its head, And, with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered "The names of those who love the Lord." Replied the angel.-Abou spoke more low, The next night The angel wrote, and vanished. It came again, with a great wakening light, And showed the names whom love of God had blessedAnd, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest! MY MOTHER. BY ANN AND JANE TAYLOR.-1783-1867. [THIS beautiful lyric is one of a volume written for children under the title of "Original Poems," by the two sisters of Isaac Taylor, the Essayist, and daughters of Isaac Taylor, an Independent minister of Colchester. The sisters are also celebrated by their "Contributions of Q. Q.," "Hymns for Infant Minds," &c. "My Mother" is selected as the production of Ann Taylor, and "The Squire's Pew" as a specimen of the writing of Jane. The latter died in 1823, the former, Mrs. Ann Gilbert, only three years since. The last stanza of "My Mother" was altered by its author at a suggestion made by the "Athenæum" only a few months before her death, as it stands here.] WHO HO fed me from her gentle breast, My Mother. When sleep forsook my open eye, Who was it sung sweet hushaby, Who sat and watch'd my infant head, My Mother. When pain and sickness made me cry, Who dress'd my doll in clothes so gay? My Mother. Who ran to help me when I fell, My Mother. Who taught my infant lips to pray, And can I ever cease to be My Mother? |