Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight of his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
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.'
'And is mine one?' said Abou. 'Nay, not so,'
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said 'I pray thee then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.'
The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names who love of God had blessed,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.
Leigh Hunt, at least in early days, found his greatest pleasure in the composition of verse,
and fixed his ambitions upon becoming a fine poet. He never quite realised the hopelessness of the attempt, though his eagerness waned, and he could criticise his own work with even undue severity.
The earliest printed verses of which we have any record, entitled "Melancholy,"
appeared in The European Magazine for 1801, when the author was just sixteen; and he contributed in the same year to The Juvenile Library.
... It was really a clever book for so young a writer, and shows a considerable acquaintance with many authors not generally beloved of schoolboys.
from
Leigh
Hunt, by R. B. Johnson (1896)
