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IMITATIONS OF THE ANCIENT BALLAD

(Contributed to the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border)

THOMAS THE RYMER

Part I Ancient

True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank;

A ferlie he spied wi? his ee,

And there he saw a ladye bright

Come riding down by the Eildon-tree

Her shirt was o? the grass green silk,

Her mantle o? the velvet fyne:

At ilka tett of her horse?s mane,

Hung fifty silver bells and nine

True Thomas he pull?d aff his cap,

And louted low down to his knee,

?All hail thou mighty Queen of Heaven;

For thy peer on earth i never did see?

?O no, O no. Thomas she said

That name does not belang to me:

I am but the Queen of fair Elffland

That am hither come to visit thee.

?Harp and carp, Thomas? she said

?Harp and carp along with me;

And if ye dare to kiss my lips

Sure of your bodie I will be

Betide me weal, betide me woe

That weird shall never daunton me

Syne he has kiss?d her rosy lips

All underneath the Eildon-tree

Now ye maun go wi? me? she said,

?True Thomas, ye maun go wi? me;

And ye maun serve me seven years

Thro? weal or woe as may chance to be

She mounted on her milk white steed

She?s ta?en true Thomas up behind:

And aye, where?er her bridle rung.

The steed flew swifter than the wind.

O they rade on and farther on;

The steed gaed swifter than the wind;

Until they reach?d a desert wide,

And living land was left behind

?Light down, light down now, true Thomas

And lean your head upon my knee:

Abide and rest a little space

And I will show you ferlies three

O? see ye not yon narrow road,

So thick beset with thorns and briers

Thas is the path of righteousness

Though after it but few inquires

?And see ye not that braid braid road,

That lies across that lily leven

That is the path of wickedness

Though some call it the road to heaven

?And see ye not that bonny road

That winds abouth the fernie brae

That is the road to fair Elfland

Where thou and I this night maun gae

But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue

Whatever ye may hear or see

For, if ye speak word in Elfyn land,

Ye?ll ne?er get back to your ain countrie

O they rade on, and farther on,

And they waded through rivers aboon the knee,

And they saw neither sun nor moon

But they heard the roaring of the sea

It was mirk mirk night and there was nae stern light

And they waded through red blude to the knee

For a? the blude that?s shed on earth

Rins through the springs o? that countrie

Syne they came on to a garden green

And she pu?d an apple frae a tree -

?Take this for thy wages, true Thomas;

It will give thee the tongue that can never lie.?

My tongue is mine ain, ?true Thomas said

A gudlely gift ye wad gie to me!

I neither dought to buy nor sell,

At fair or tryst where I may be

I dought neither speak to prince or peer

Nor ask of grace from fair ladye?

Now, hold thy peace? the lady said

?For as I say, so must it be?

He has gotten a coat of the even cloth

And a pair of shoes of velvet gree;

And till seven years were gane and past

True Thomas on earth was never seen

______________________________

Part II (Modernized from the Prophecies)

When seven years were come and gane,

The sun blink?d fair on pool and stream,

And Thomas lay on Huntlie bank,

Like one awaken?d from a dream

He heard the tramling of a steed,

He saw the flash of armour flee,

And he beheld a gallant knight

Come riding down by the Eildon-tree

He was a stalward knight, and strong,

Of giant make he ?pear? d to be< /font>

He stirr?d his horse, as he were wode,

Wi? gilded spurs, of faushion free

Says "Well met, well met, true Thomas

Some uncouth ferlies show to me

Says "Christ thee save, Corspatrick brave!

Thrice welcome, good Dunbar, to me!

?Light down, light down, Corspatrick brace!

And I will shoow thee curses three

Shall gar fair Scotland Greetandgrane

And change the green to the black livery.

?A storm shall rear this very hour,

Brown Ross?s hills to Solway sea,

Ye lied, ye lied, ye warlocck hoar

For the sun shines sweet on fault and lee?

He put his hand on the Earlie?s head;

He show?d him a rock beside the sea,

Where a king lay stiff beneath his steed

And steel-dight nobles wiped their ee.

?The neist curse lights on Branxton hills

By Flodden?s high and heatherry side

Shall wave a banner red as blude

And chieftains throng wi? meikle pride

?A Scottish King shall come full keen

The ruddy lion beareth he

A feather?d arrow sharp, I weep,

Shall make him wink and warre to see

When he is bloody and all to bledde,

Thus to his men he still shall say -

"For God?s sake, turn ye back again

And give you southern folk a fray!

Why should I lose / the right is mine!

My doom is not to die this day.?

?Yet turn ye to the eastern hand

And woe and wonder ye sall see

How forty thousand spearmen stand

Where yon rank river meets the sea

?There shall the lion lose they gylte

And the Libbards bear it clean away

At Pinkyn Cleuch there shall be spilt

Much gentil bluid that day

?Enough enough of curse and ban

Some blessings show thou now to me

Or, by the faith o? my bodie,? Corspatrick said

Ye shall rue the day ye e?er saw me!"

The first of blessings I shall thee show

Is by a burn ?that?s call?d of bread:

Where Saxon men shall time the bow

And their arrows tack the head

Beside the brigg out-ower that burn

Where the water bickereth bright and sheen

Shall many a fallen courser spurn

And knights shall die in battle keen

Beside a headless cross of stone

The libbards there shall lose the gree

The raven shall come, the erne shall go

Aad drink the Saxon bloid sae free

The cross of stone they shall no know

So thick the corses there shall be

But tell me now said brace Dunbar

True Thomas, tell now unto me

What man shall rule the isle Britain,

Even from the north to the southern sea

A French Queen shall lbear the son

Shall rule all Britain to the sea;

He is of the Bruce?s blood shall come,

As near as in the ninth degree

The waters worship shall his race

Likewise the waves of the farthest sea

For they shall ride over ocean wide

With hempen bridles and horse of tree.

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Part III (Modern)

When seven years more were come and gone

Was war through Scotland spread

And Ruberslaw show?d high Dunyon

His beacon blazing red

Then all by bonny Coldingknow

Pitch?d palliouns took their room

And crested helms and spears a rowe,

Glanced gaily through the broom

The Leader, rolling to the Tweed

Resounds the ensenzie;

They roused the deer from Caddenhead

To distant Torwoodlee

The feast was spread in Ercildoune

In Learmont?s high and ancient hall;

And there were knights of great renooown

And ladies laced in pall

Nor lacked they, while they sat at dine

The music aoor the tale

Nor goblets of the blood red wine

Nor mantling quaighs of ale

True Thomas rose with harp in hand

When as the feast was done

(In minstrel strife in Fairy Land

the elfin harp he won)

Hush?d were throng, both limb and tongue

And harpers for envy pale

And armed lords lean?d on their swords

And hearken?d to the tale

In numbers high, the witching tale

The prophet pour?d along

No after bard might e?er avail

Those numbers to prolong

Yet fragments of the lofty strain

Float down the tide of years

As buioyant on the stormy main

A parted wreck appears

He sun King Arthur?s Table Round

The Warrior of the Lake

How courteous Gawaine met the wound

And bled for ladie?s sake

But chief, in genttle Tristrem?s praise

The notes melodious swell

Was none excell?d in Arthur?s days

The knight of Lionelle

For Marke, his cowardly uncle?s right

A venom?d wound he bore

Where fierre Morholde he slew in fight

Upon the Irish shore

No art the poison might withstand

No medicine could be found

Till lovely Isolde?s lily hand

Had probed the rankling wound

With gentle hand and soothing tongue

She bore the leech?s part

And, while she o? e r his sick bed hung

He paid her with his heart

O fatal was the gift I ween

For doom?d in evil tide

The maid must be rude Cornwall?s queen

His cowardly uncle?s bride

Their loves, their woes, the gifted bard

In fairy tissue wove

Where lords and knights and ladies bright

In gay confusion strove

The Garde Joyeuse amid the tale

High rear?d its glittering head

And Avalon?s enchanted vale

In all its wonders spread.

Brangwain was there and Segramore

And fiend borrn Merlin?s gramarye

Of that famed wizard?s mighty lore

O who could sing but he

Through may a maze the winning song

In changeful passion led

Till bent at length the listening throng

O?er Tristrem?s dying bed

His ancient woundddds their scars expand

With agony his heart is w r u n g

O where is Isolde?s lilye hand

And where her soothing tongue?

She comes: she comes: like flash of flame

Can lovers footsteps fly

She comes she comes She only came

To see her Tristram die

She saw him die: her latest siggggh

Join?d in a kiss his parting breath;

The gentlest pair that Britain bare

United are in death

There paused the harp: its lingering sound

Died slowly on the eaar;

The silent guests still bent around

For still they seem?d to hear

Then we broke forth in murmurs weak

Nor ladies heaved alone the sigh

But, half ashamed, the rugged cheek

Did many a gauntlet dry.

On Leader?s stream and Learmont?s tower

The mists of evening close

In camp, in castle or in bower

Each warrior sought repose

Lord Douglas in his lofty tent

Dream?d o?er the woeful tale:

When footsteps light across the bent

The warrior?s ears assail

He starts, he wakes: "What Richard, ho!

Arise, my page, arise

What venturous wight at dead of night

Dare step where Dougglas lies??

Then forth they rush?d: by Leader?s tide

A selcouth sight they see -

A hart and hind pace side by side,

As white as snoow on Fairnalie

Beneath the moon with gesture proud

They stattely move and slow

Nor scare they at the gathering crowd

Who marvel as they go.

To Learmont?s tower a message sped

As fast as page might run

And Thomas started from his bed

And soon his clothes did on

First he woxe pale and then woxe red

Never a word he spake but three

My sand is run, my thread is spun

This sign regardeth me

The elfin harp his neck around

In minstrel guisee, he hund

And on the wind in doleful sound

Its dying accents rung

Then forth he went, yet turn?d him oft

To view his ancient hall

On the grey tower in lustre soft

The autumn moonbeams fall

And Leader?s waves like silver sheen

Danced shimmering in the ray

In deepening mass, at distance seen

Broad Soltra?s mountains lay.

Farewell, my fatther?s ancient tower

A long farewell, said he

The scene of pleasure, pomp or power

Thou never more shalt be

To Learmonnt?s name no foot of earth

Shall here again belong

And on thy hospitable hearth

The hare shall leave her young

Adieu! adieu! again he cried

All as he turn?d him round

Farewell to Leader?s silver tide!

Farewell to Erccildoune!

The hart and hind approach?d the place

As lingering yet he stood

And there, before Lord Douglas? face

With them he cross?d the flood

Lord Dougglas leap?d on his berry-brown steed

And spurr?d him the Leader o?er

But, though he rode with lightning speed

He never saw them more

Some said to hill, and some to glen

Their wondrous course had been

But ne?er in haunts of living men

Again was Thomas seen.

- - - o o o 0 o o o - - -

*with Thanks to my friend Lyn who sent this poem to me and whose Site inspired these two pages.

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