AS I LAYE A-THYNKYNGE.
THE LAST LINES OF THOMAS INGOLDSBY.
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 gaye;As I lay a-thynkynge, he rode upon his waye.As I lay a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge,Sadly sang the Birde as she sat upon the tree!There seem'd a crimson plain,Where a gallant Knyghte laye slayne,And a steed with broken reinRan free,As I laye a-thynkynge, most pitiful to see!As I laye a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge,Merrie sang the Birde as she sat upon the boughe;A lovely Mayde came bye,And a gentil youth was nyghe,And he breathed many a sygheAnd a vowe;As I laye a-thynkynge, her hearte was gladsome now.As I laye a-thynkynge, a thynkynge, a-thynkynge,Sadly sang the Birde as she sat upon the thorne;No more a youth was there,But a Maiden rent her haire,And cried in sad despaire,"That I was borne!"As I laye a-thynkynge, she perished forlorne.As I laye a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge,Sweetly sang the Birde as she sat upon the briar;There came a lovely childe,And his face was meek and mild,Yet joyously he smiledOn his sire;As I laye a-thynkynge, a Cherub mote admire.As I laye a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge,And sadly sang the Birde as it perch'd upon a bier;That joyous smile was gone,And the face was white and wan,As the downe upon the SwanDoth appear,As I laye a-thynkynge—oh! bitter flow'd the tear!As I laye a-thynkynge, the golden sun was sinking,O merrie sang that Birde as it glitter'd on her breastWith a thousand gorgeous dyes,While soaring to the skies,'Mid the stars she seem'd to rise,As to her nest;As I laye a-thynkynge, her meaning was exprest:—"Follow, follow me away,It boots not to delay,"—'Twas so she seem'd to saye,"Here is Rest!"T. I.
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 gaye;As I lay a-thynkynge, he rode upon his waye.As I lay a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge,Sadly sang the Birde as she sat upon the tree!There seem'd a crimson plain,Where a gallant Knyghte laye slayne,And a steed with broken reinRan free,As I laye a-thynkynge, most pitiful to see!As I laye a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge,Merrie sang the Birde as she sat upon the boughe;A lovely Mayde came bye,And a gentil youth was nyghe,And he breathed many a sygheAnd a vowe;As I laye a-thynkynge, her hearte was gladsome now.As I laye a-thynkynge, a thynkynge, a-thynkynge,Sadly sang the Birde as she sat upon the thorne;No more a youth was there,But a Maiden rent her haire,And cried in sad despaire,"That I was borne!"As I laye a-thynkynge, she perished forlorne.As I laye a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge,Sweetly sang the Birde as she sat upon the briar;There came a lovely childe,And his face was meek and mild,Yet joyously he smiledOn his sire;As I laye a-thynkynge, a Cherub mote admire.As I laye a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge,And sadly sang the Birde as it perch'd upon a bier;That joyous smile was gone,And the face was white and wan,As the downe upon the SwanDoth appear,As I laye a-thynkynge—oh! bitter flow'd the tear!As I laye a-thynkynge, the golden sun was sinking,O merrie sang that Birde as it glitter'd on her breastWith a thousand gorgeous dyes,While soaring to the skies,'Mid the stars she seem'd to rise,As to her nest;As I laye a-thynkynge, her meaning was exprest:—"Follow, follow me away,It boots not to delay,"—'Twas so she seem'd to saye,"Here is Rest!"T. I.
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 gaye;As I lay a-thynkynge, he rode upon his waye.
As I lay a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge,Sadly sang the Birde as she sat upon the tree!There seem'd a crimson plain,Where a gallant Knyghte laye slayne,And a steed with broken reinRan free,As I laye a-thynkynge, most pitiful to see!
As I laye a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge,Merrie sang the Birde as she sat upon the boughe;A lovely Mayde came bye,And a gentil youth was nyghe,And he breathed many a sygheAnd a vowe;As I laye a-thynkynge, her hearte was gladsome now.
As I laye a-thynkynge, a thynkynge, a-thynkynge,Sadly sang the Birde as she sat upon the thorne;No more a youth was there,But a Maiden rent her haire,And cried in sad despaire,"That I was borne!"As I laye a-thynkynge, she perished forlorne.
As I laye a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge,Sweetly sang the Birde as she sat upon the briar;There came a lovely childe,And his face was meek and mild,Yet joyously he smiledOn his sire;As I laye a-thynkynge, a Cherub mote admire.
As I laye a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge,And sadly sang the Birde as it perch'd upon a bier;That joyous smile was gone,And the face was white and wan,As the downe upon the SwanDoth appear,As I laye a-thynkynge—oh! bitter flow'd the tear!
As I laye a-thynkynge, the golden sun was sinking,O merrie sang that Birde as it glitter'd on her breastWith a thousand gorgeous dyes,While soaring to the skies,'Mid the stars she seem'd to rise,As to her nest;As I laye a-thynkynge, her meaning was exprest:—"Follow, follow me away,It boots not to delay,"—'Twas so she seem'd to saye,"Here is Rest!"T. I.
THE END.
MORRISON AND GIBB, EDINBURGH,PRINTERS TO HER MAJESTY'S STATIONERY OFFICE.
Z67051188668.