[SAMUEL ROGERS, the son of a banker, was born at Newington Green, near London, in the year 1762, and, after a careful education, was introduced into the banking establishment. His first desire to become a poet arose from reading Beattie's "Minstrel " when he was nine years of age. In 1792 he produced his most celebrated work, "The Pleasures of Memory," and in 1812, "Jacqueline," a tale. In 1825 appeared "Human Life," and in 1822, "Italy," a descriptive poem in blank verse. Through his affluent circumstances, he was enabled to cultivate his favourite tastes, and to adorn his mansion in St. James's Place with the finest and rarest pictures, books, and gems. He died in the year 1856, in the ninety-fourth year of his age, and was buried in Hornsey Churchyard.] MINE be a cot beside the hill, A bee-hive's hum shall sooth my ear; A willowy brook, that turns a mill, The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch, Around my ivied porch shall spring And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing In russet gown and apron bluc. THE MAY-QUEEN. BY ALFRED TENNYSON. 66 [ALFRED TENNYSON, the son of the Rev. G. Tennyson, a Lincolnshire clergyman, was born in the year 1810; he was educated at Cambridge, and there wrote a prize poem. In 1830 appeared his 'Poems, chiefly Lyrical;" these, at first, attracted little attention, but, since the publication of his works in two volumes, in 1842, the growth of his fame has been very rapid. In 1847 he published "The Princess," and, in 1850, “In Memoriam." On the death of Wordsworth, he received the appointment of Poet Laureate. His latest publication is the well-known "Maud, and other Poems," which was issued in 1855. Since his marriage he has lived in retirement in the Isle of Wight.] You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear; There's many a black black eye, they say, but none so bright as mine; There's Margaret and Mary, there's Kate and Caroline : But none so fair as little Alice, in all the land they say, So I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake, As I came up the valley, whom think ye should I see, But Robin leaning on the bridge beneath the hazel-tree? He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yesterday, But I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. He thought I was a ghost, mother, for I was all in white, They say he's dying all for love, but that can never be : And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. Ꮓ Ꮓ |