Thomas was allowed to revisit the earth after a seven years' sojourn in
fairy-land, he was under an obligation to go back to the elf-queen
whenever she should summon him. One day while he "was making merry with
his friends in the town of Erceldoune, a person came running in, and
told, with marks of fear and astonishment, that a hart and hind had left
the neighboring forest, and were composedly and slowly parading the
street of the village. The prophet instantly arose, left his habitation,
and followed the wonderful animals to the forest, whence he was never
seen to return." He is, however, expected to come back again at some
future time.
What we learn from the adventures of Thomas concerning the perils of
dealing with fairies, and the precautions to be observed, agrees with
the general teaching of tradition upon the subject. In this matter there
is pretty much one rule for all "unco" folk, be they fairies, dwarfs,
water-sprites, devils, or departed spirits, and, in a limited way, for
witches, too. Thomas, having kissed the elf-queen's lips, must go with
her. When the dead Willy comes to ask back his faith and troth of
Margaret, and she says he must first kiss her, cheek and chin, he
replies, "If I should kiss your red, red lips, your days would not be
long."[318] When Thomas is about to pull fruit in the subterranean
garden, or paradise, the elf bids him let be: all the plagues of hell
light on the fruit of this country; "if thou pluck it, thy soul goes to
the fire of hell."[319] The queen had taken the precaution of bringing
some honest bread and wine with her for Thomas's behoof. So when Burd
Ellen's brother sets out to rescue his sister, who had been carried off
by the king of Elfland, his sage adviser enjoins him to eat and drink
nothing in fairy-land, whatever his hunger or thirst; "for if he tasted
or touched in Elfland, he must remain in the power of the elves, and
never see middle-eard again."[320] Abstinence from speech is equally
advisable, according to our ballad and to other authority: Gin ae word
you should chance to speak, you will neer get back to your ain countrie,
#A# 15. They've asked him questions, one and all, but he answered none
but that fair ladie, #B# 12. What so any man to thee say, look thou
answer none but me, #R# 44.
That eating and drinking, personal contact, exchange of speech,
receiving of gifts, in any abode of unearthly beings, including the
dead, will reduce a man to their fellowship and condition might be
enforced by a great number of examples, and has already been abundantly
shown by Professor Wilhelm Müller in his beautiful essay, Zur Symbolik
der deutschen Volkssage.[321] The popular belief of the northern nations
in this matter is more completely shown than anywhere else in Saxo's
account of King Gormo's visit to Guthmund, and it will be enough to cite
that. The Danish King Gormo, having heard extraordinary things of the
riches of Geruth (the giant Geirröðr), determines to verify the reports
with his own eyes, under the guidance of Thorkill, from whom he has
received them. The land of Geruth is far to the northeast, beyond the
sun and stars, and within the realm of Chaos and Old Night. It is, in
fact, a very dismal and terrific sort of Hades. The way to it lies
through the dominion of Guthmund, Geruth's brother, which is described
as a paradise, but a paradise of the same dubious attractions as that in
Thomas of Erceldoune. Guthmund, himself a giant, receives the
travellers, a band of about three hundred, very graciously, and conducts
them to his palace. Thorkill takes his comrades apart, and puts them on
their guard: they must eat and drink nothing that is offered them, but
live on the provisions which they have brought, must keep off from the
people of the place and not touch them; if they partake of any of the
food, they will forget everything, and have to pass their lives in this
foul society. Guthmund complains that they slight his hospitality, but
Thorkill, now and always, has an excuse ready. The genial monarch offers
Gormo one of his twelve beautiful daughters in marriage, and their
choice of wives to all the rest of the train. Most of the Danes like the
proposition, but Thorkill renews his warnings. Four take the bait, and
lose all recollection of the past. Guthmund now commends the delicious
fruits of his garden, and tries every art to make the king taste them.
But he is again foiled by Thorkill, and clearly perceiving that he has
met his match, transports the travellers over the river which separates
him and his brother, and allows them to continue their journey.[322]
* * * * *
#C# is translated by Talvj, Versuch, etc., p. 552; by Doenniges, p. 64;
by Arndt, Blütenlese, p. 246; by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder,
p. 14; by Knortz, Lieder u. Romanzen, p. 1; by Edward Barry, Cycle
populaire de Robin Hood, p. 92; and by F.H. Bothe, Janus, p. 122, after
Barry.
A
Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 1: Jamieson's
Popular Ballads, II, 7.
1
True Thomas lay oer yond grassy bank,
And he beheld a ladie gay,
A ladie that was brisk and bold,
Come riding oer the fernie brae.
2
Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,
Her mantel of the velvet fine,
At ilka tett of her horse's mane
Hung fifty silver bells and nine.
3
True Thomas he took off his hat,
And bowed him low down till his knee:
'All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!
For your peer on earth I never did see.'
4
'O no, O no, True Thomas,' she says,
'That name does not belong to me;
I am but the queen of fair Elfland,
And I'm come here for to visit thee.
* * * * * * *
5
'But ye maun go wi me now, Thomas,
True Thomas, ye maun go wi me,
For ye maun serve me seven years,
Thro weel or wae as may chance to be.'
6
She turned about her milk-white steed,
And took True Thomas up behind,
And aye wheneer her bridle rang,
The steed flew swifter than the wind.
7
For forty days and forty nights
He wade thro red blude to the knee,
And he saw neither sun nor moon,
But heard the roaring of the sea.
8
O they rade on, and further on,
Until they came to a garden green:
'Light down, light down, ye ladie free,
Some of that fruit let me pull to thee.'
9
'O no, O no, True Thomas,' she says,
'That fruit maun not be touched by thee,
For a' the plagues that are in hell
Light on the fruit of this countrie.
10
'But I have a loaf here in my lap,
Likewise a bottle of claret wine,
And now ere we go farther on,
We'll rest a while, and ye may dine.'
11
When he had eaten and drunk his fill,
'Lay down your head upon my knee,'
The lady sayd, 'ere we climb yon hill,
And I will show you fairlies three.
12
'O see not ye yon narrow road,
So thick beset wi thorns and briers?
That is the path of righteousness,
Tho after it but few enquires.
13
'And see not ye that braid braid road,
That lies across yon lillie leven?
That is the path of wickedness,
Tho some call it the road to heaven.
14
'And see not ye that bonny road,
Which winds about the fernie brae?
That is the road to fair Elfland,
Whe[re] you and I this night maun gae.
15
'But Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,
Whatever you may hear or see,
For gin ae word you should chance to speak,
You will neer get back to your ain countrie.'
16
He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,
And a pair of shoes of velvet green,
And till seven years were past and gone
True Thomas on earth was never seen.
B
Campbell MSS, II, 83.
1
As Thomas lay on Huntlie banks--
A wat a weel bred man was he--
And there he spied a lady fair,
Coming riding down by the Eildon tree.
2
The horse she rode on was dapple gray,
And in her hand she held bells nine;
I thought I heard this fair lady say
These fair siller bells they should a' be mine.
3
It's Thomas even forward went,
And lootit low down on his knee:
'Weel met thee save, my lady fair,
For thou'rt the flower o this countrie.'
4
'O no, O no, Thomas,' she says,
'O no, O no, that can never be,
For I'm but a lady of an unco land,
Comd out a hunting, as ye may see.
5
'O harp and carp, Thomas,' she says,
'O harp and carp, and go wi me;
It's be seven years, Thomas, and a day,
Or you see man or woman in your ain countrie.'
6
It's she has rode, and Thomas ran,
Until they cam to yon water clear;
He's coosten off his hose and shon,
And he's wooden the water up to the knee.
7
It's she has rode, and Thomas ran,
Until they cam to yon garden green;
He's put up his hand for to pull down ane,
For the lack o food he was like to tyne.
8
'Hold your hand, Thomas,' she says,
'Hold your hand, that must not be;
It was a' that cursed fruit o thine
Beggared man and woman in your countrie.
9
'But I have a loaf and a soup o wine,
And ye shall go and dine wi me;
And lay yer head down in my lap,
And I will tell ye farlies three.
10
'It's dont ye see yon broad broad way,
That leadeth down by yon skerry fell?
It's ill's the man that dothe thereon gang,
For it leadeth him straight to the gates o hell.
11
'It's dont ye see yon narrow way,
That leadeth down by yon lillie lea?
It's weel's the man that doth therein gang,
For it leads him straight to the heaven hie.'
* * * * * * *
12
It's when she cam into the hall--
I wat a weel bred man was he--
They've asked him question[s], one and all,
But he answered none but that fair ladie.
13
O they speerd at her where she did him get,
And she told them at the Eildon tree;
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
C
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 251, ed. 1802.
| 1
| True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank,
| A ferlie he spied wi' his ee,
| And there he saw a lady bright,
| Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.
| 2
| Her shirt was o the grass-green silk,
| Her mantle o the velvet fyne,
| At ilka tett of her horse's mane
| Hang fifty siller bells and nine.
| 3
| True Thomas, he pulld 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.'
| 4
| 'O no, O no, Thomas,' she said,
| 'That name does not belang to me;
| I am but the queen of fair Elfland,
| That am hither come to visit thee.
5
'Harp and carp, Thomas,' she said,
'Harp and carp along wi me,
And if ye dare to kiss my lips,
Sure of your bodie I will be.'
6
'Betide me weal, betide me woe,
That weird shall never daunton me;'
Syne he has kissed her rosy lips,
All underneath the Eildon Tree.
| 7
| '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.'
| 8
| She mounted on her milk-white steed,
| She's taen True Thomas up behind,
| And aye wheneer her bridle rung,
| The steed flew swifter than the wind.
| 9
| O they rade on, and farther on--
| The steed gaed swifter than the wind--
| Untill they reached a desart wide,
| And living land was left behind.
| 10
| 'Light down, light down, now, True Thomas,
| And lean your head upon my knee;
| Abide and rest a little space,
| And I will shew you ferlies three.
| 11
| 'O see ye not yon narrow road,
| So thick beset with thorns and briers?
| That is the path of righteousness,
| Tho after it but few enquires.
| 12
| 'And see not ye that braid braid road,
| That lies across that lily leven?
| That is the path of wickedness,
| Tho some call it the road to heaven.
| 13
| 'And see not ye that bonny road,
| That winds about the fernie brae?
| That is the road to fair Elfland,
| Where thou and I this night maun gae.
| 14
| 'But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,
| Whatever ye may hear or see,
| For, if you speak word in Elflyn land,
| Ye'll neer get back to your ain countrie.'
15
O they rade on, and farther on,
And they waded thro rivers aboon the knee,
And they saw neither sun nor moon,
But they heard the roaring of the sea.
16
It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern light,
And they waded thro red blude to the knee;
For a' the blude that's shed on earth
Rins thro the springs o that countrie.
17
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 the tongue that can never lie.'
18
'My tongue is mine ain,' True Thomas said;
'A gudely gift ye wad gie to me:'
I neither dought to buy nor sell,
At fair or tryst where I may be.
19
'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.'
20
He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,
And a pair of shoes of velvet green,
And till seven years were gane and past
True Thomas on earth was never seen.
* * * * *
#A.#
_7 stands 15 in the MS._
8^2. _~golden green~, if my copy is right._
_11^{2,3} are 11^{3,2} in the MS.: the order of words is
still not simple enough for a ballad._
14^4. goe.
_Jamieson has a few variations, which I suppose to be his
own._
1^1. oer yonder bank.
3^4. your like.
4^4. And I am come here to.
6^4. Her steed.
8^2. garden, _rightly_.
10^2. clarry.
11^2. Lay your head.
12^1. see you not.
12^4. there's few.
13. see ye not yon.
14^1. see ye not.
14^2. Which winds.
#B.#
3^2. her knee.
3^3. thou save.
12^1. _MS. perhaps ~unto~._
13^{1,2} _follow st. 12 without separation_.
#C.#
20^1. a cloth.
APPENDIX.
THOMAS OFF ERSSELDOUNE.
Thornton MS., leaf 149, back, as printed by Dr. J. A. H.
Murray.
[A prologue of six stanzas, found only in the Thornton
MS., is omitted, as being, even if genuine, not to the
present purpose.]
1
Als I me wente þis endres daye,
Ffull faste i_n_ mynd makand my mone,
In a mery morny_n_ge of Maye,
By Huntle bankkes my selfe allone,
2
I herde þe jaye and þe throstelle,
The mawys menyde of hir songe,
þe wodewale beryde als a belle,
That alle þe wode a-bowte me ronge.
3
Allon_n_e in longynge thus als I laye,
Vndyre-nethe a semely tre,
[Saw] I whare a lady gaye
[Came ridand] ou_er_ a longe lee.
4
If I solde sytt to domesdaye,
W_i_t_h_ my tonge to wrobbe and wrye,
Certanely þat lady gaye
Neu_er_ bese scho askryede for mee.
5
Hir palfraye was a dappill graye,
Swylke one ne saghe I neu_er_ none;
Als dose þe sonne on som_er_es daye,
þ_a_t faire lady hir selfe scho schone.
6
Hir selle it was of roelle bone,
Ffull semely was þ_a_t syghte to see;
Stefly sett w_i_t_h_ p_re_cyous stones,
And compaste all with crapotee;
7
Stones of oryente, grete plente.
Hir hare abowte hir hede it hange;
Scho rade ou_er_ þat lange lee;
A whylle scho blewe, a-noþ_er_ scho sange.
8
Hir garthes of nobyll sylke þay were,
The bukylls were of berelle stone,
Hir steraps were of crystalle clere,
And all w_i_t_h_ perelle ou_er_-by-gone.
9
Hir payetrelle was of irale fyne,
Hir cropoure was of orpharë,
And als clere golde hir brydill it schone;
One aythir syde hange bellys three.
10
[Scho led _three_ grehoundis in a leesshe,]
And seuen_e_ raches by hir þay rone;
Scho bare an horne abowte hir halse,
And vndir hir belte full many a flone.
11
Thom_a_s laye and sawe þat syghte,
Vndir-nethe ane semly tree;
He sayd, ȝone es Marye, moste of myghte,
Þat bare þ_a_t childe þat dyede for mee.
12
Bot if I speke w_i_t_h_ ȝone lady bryghte,
I hope myn_e_ herte will bryste i_n_ three;
Now sall I go w_i_t_h_ all my myghte,
Hir for to mete at Eldoun_e_ tree.
13
Thomas rathely vpe he rase,
And he rane ou_er_ þat mountayne hye;
Gyff it be als the storye sayes,
He hir mette at Eldone tree.
14
He knelyde down_e_ appon_e_ his knee,
Vndir-nethe þat grenwode spraye,
And sayd, Lufly ladye, rewe one mee,
Qwene of heuen_e_, als þou wele maye!
15
Then spake þat lady milde of thoghte:
Thomas, late swylke wordes bee;
Qwene of heuen_e_ ne am I noghte,
Ffor I tuke neu_er_ so heghe degre.
16
Bote I ame of ane oþ_er_ cou_n_tree,
If I be payrelde moste of pryse;
I ryde aftyre this wylde fee;
My raches rynnys at my devyse.'
17
'If þ_o_u be parelde moste of pryse,
And here rydis thus in thy folye,
Of lufe, lady, als þ_o_u erte wyse,
Þou gyffe me leue to lye the bye.'
18
Scho sayde, þou man_e_, þat ware folye;
I praye þe, Thomas, þ_o_u late me bee;
Ffor I saye þe full sekirlye,
Þat synne will fordoo all my beaute.
19
'Now, lufly ladye, rewe one mee,
And I will eu_er_ more w_i_t_h_ the duelle;
Here my trouthe I will the plyghte,
Whethir þ_o_u will in heuen_e_ or helle.'
20
'Mane of molde, þ_o_u will me marre,
But ȝitt þou sall hafe all thy will;
And trowe it wele, þ_o_u chewys þe werre,
Ffor alle my beaute will þ_o_u spylle.'
21
Down_e_ þan_e_ lyghte þat lady bryghte,
Vndir-nethe þat grenewode spraye;
And, als the storye tellis full ryghte,
Seuen_e_ sythis by hir he laye.
22
Scho sayd, Man_e_, the lykes thy playe:
Whate byrde in boure maye delle w_i_t_h_ the?
Thou merrys me all þis longe daye;
I pray the, Thomas, late me bee.
23
Thom_a_s stode vpe i_n_ þat stede,
And he by-helde þat lady gaye;
Hir hare it hange all ou_er_ hir hede,
Hir eghne semede owte, þ_a_t are were graye.
24
And alle þe riche clothynge was a-waye,
Þat he by-fore sawe i_n_ þat stede;
Hir a schanke blake, hir oþer graye,
And all hir body lyke the lede.
25
Thom_a_s laye, and sawe þat syghte,
Vndir-nethe þat grenewod tree.
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
26
Þan said Thom_a_s, Allas! allas!
In faythe þis es a dullfull syghte;
How arte þ_o_u fadyde þus i_n_ þe face,
Þat schane by-fore als þe sonne so bryght[e]!
27
Scho sayd, Thom_a_s, take leue at sone and mon[e],
And als at lefe þ_a_t grewes on tree;
This twelmoneth sall þ_o_u w_i_t_h_ me gone,
And medill-erthe sall þ_o_u none see.'
28
He knelyd downe appon_e_ his knee,
Vndir-nethe þ_a_t grenewod spraye,
And sayd, Lufly lady, rewe on mee,
Mylde qwene of heuen_e_, als þ_o_u beste maye!
29
'Allas!' he sayd, 'and wa es mee!
I trowe my dedis wyll wirke me care;
My saulle, Jh_e_su, by-teche I the,
Whedir-some þ_a_t eu_er_ my banes sall fare.'
30
Scho ledde hy_m_ in at Eldone hill,
Vndir-nethe a derne lee,
Whare it was dirke as mydnyght myrke,
And eu_er_ þe wat_e_r till his knee.
31
The montenans of dayes three,
He herd bot swoghynge of þe flode;
At þe laste he sayde, Full wa es mee!
Almaste I dye, for fawte of f[ode.]
32
Scho lede hy_m_ in-till a faire herbere,
Whare frwte was g[ro]wan[d gret plentee];
Pere and appill, bothe ryppe þay were,
The date, and als the damasee.
33
Þe fygge, and alsso þe wyneberye,
The nyghtgales byggande on þair neste;
Þe papeioyes faste abowte gan_e_ flye,
And throstylls sange, wolde hafe no reste.
34
He p_re_ssede to pulle frowte w_i_t_h_ his hande,
Als man_e_ for fude þ_a_t was nere faynt;
Scho sayd, Thom_a_s, þ_o_u late þam_e_ stande,
Or ells þe fende the will atteynt.
35
If þ_o_u it plokk, sothely to saye,
Thi saule gose to þe fyre of helle;
It co_m_mes neu_er_ owte or domesdaye,
Bot þ_er_ in payne ay for to duelle.
36
Thomas, sothely I the hyghte,
Come lygge thyn_e_ hede down_e_ on my knee,
And [þou] sall se þe fayreste syghte
Þat eu_er_ sawe man_e_ of thi contree.
37
He did in hye als scho hym badde;
Appone hir knee his hede he layde,
Ffor hir to paye he was full glade;
And þan_e_ þat lady to hy_m_ sayde:
38
Seese þ_o_u nowe ȝone faire waye,
Þat lygges ou_er_ ȝone heghe mou_n_tayne?
ȝone es þe waye to heuen_e_ for aye,
When_e_ synfull sawles are passed þer payne.
39
Seese þ_o_u nowe ȝone oþ_er_ waye,
Þat lygges lawe by-nethe ȝone rysse?
ȝone es þe waye, þe sothe to saye,
Vn-to þe joye of paradyse.
40
Seese þ_o_u ȝitt ȝone thirde waye,
Þat ligges vndir ȝone grene playne?
ȝone es þe waye, w_i_t_h_ tene and traye,
Whare synfull saulis suffirris þaire payne.
41
Bot seese þ_o_u nowe ȝone ferthe waye,
Þat lygges ou_er_ ȝone depe delle?
ȝone es þe waye, so waylawaye!
Vn-to þe birnande fyre of helle.
42
Seese þ_o_u ȝitt ȝone faire castelle,
[Þ_a_t standis ouer] ȝone heghe hill?
Of towne and towre it beris þe belle;
In erthe es none lyke it vn-till.
43
Ffor sothe, Thom_a_s, ȝone es myn_e_ awenn_e_,
And þe kynges of this countree;
Bot me ware leu_er_ be hanged and drawen_e_,
Or þat he wyste þou laye by me.
44
When þ_o_u co_m_mes to ȝone castelle gay,
I pray þe curtase man_e_ to bee;
And whate so any man_e_ to þe saye,
Luke þ_o_u answere none bott mee.
45 My lorde es seruede at ylk a mese
W_i_t_h_ thritty knyghttis faire and free;
I sall saye, syttande at the desse,
I tuke thi speche by-ȝonde the see
46
Thom_a_s still als stane he stude,
And he by-helde þat lady gaye;
Scho come agayne als faire and gude,
And also ryche one hir palfraye.
47
Hir grewehundis fillide w_i_t_h_ dere blode,
Hir raches couplede, by my faye;
Scho blewe hir horne w_i_t_h_ mayne and mode,
Vn-to þe castelle scho tuke þe waye.
48
In-to þe haulle sothely scho went,
Thomas foloued at hir hande;
Than ladyes come, bothe faire and gent,
With curtassye to hir knelande.
49
Harpe and fethill bothe þay fande,
Gett_er_ne, and als so þe sawtrye;
Lutte and ryhyne bothe gangande,
And all man_er_e of mynstralsye.
50
Þe most m_er_uelle þ_a_t Thom_a_s thoghte,
When_e_ þat he stode appon_e_ the flore;
Ffor feftty hertis in were broghte,
Þat were bothe grete and store.
51
Raches laye lapande in þe blode,
Cokes come w_i_t_h_ dryssynge knyfe;
Thay brittened þam_e_ als þay were wode;
Reuelle amanges þame was full ryfe.
52
Knyghtis dawnesede by three and three,
There was revelle, gamen_e_ and playe;
Lufly ladyes, faire and free,
That satte and sange one riche araye.
53
Thom_a_s duellide i_n_ that solace
More þan_e_ I ȝowe saye, p_a_rde,
Till one a daye, so hafe I grace,
My lufly lady sayde to mee:
54
Do buske the, Thom_a_s, þe buse agayne,
Ffor þ_o_u may here no lengare be;
Hye the faste, w_i_t_h_ myghte and mayne,
I sall the brynge till Eldone tree.
55
Thom_a_s sayde þan_e_, w_i_t_h_ heuy chere,
Lufly lady, nowe late me bee;
Ffor certis, lady, I hafe bene here
Noghte bot þe space of dayes three.
56
'Ffor sothe, Thomas, als I þe telle,
Þou hase bene here thre ȝere and more;
Bot langere here þ_o_u may noghte duelle;
The skylle I sall þe telle whare-fore.
57
'To morne of helle þe foulle fende
Amange this folke will feche his fee;
And þ_o_u arte mekill man_e_ and hende;
I trowe full wele he wolde chese the.
58
'Ffor alle þe gold þ_a_t eu_e_r may bee,
Ffro hethyn_e_ vn-to þe worldis ende,
Þou bese neu_er_ be-trayede for mee;
Þerefore w_i_t_h_ me I rede thou wende.'
59
Scho broghte hy_m_ agayne to Eldone tree,
Vndir-nethe þ_a_t grenewode spraye;
In Huntlee bannkes es mery to bee,
Whare fowles synges bothe nyght and daye.
60
'Fferre owtt in ȝone mountane graye,
Thomas, my fawkon_e_ bygges a neste;
A fawconn_e_ es an erlis praye;
Ffor-thi in na place may he reste.
61
'Ffare well, Thomas, I wend my waye,
Ffor me by-houys ou_er_ thir benttis brown_e:_'
Loo here a fytt: more es to saye,
All of Thomas of Erselldown_e_.
FYTT II.
1
'Fare wele, Thom_a_s, I wend my waye,
I may no lengare stande wit_h_ the:'
'Gyff me a tokynynge, lady gaye,
That I may saye I spake wit_h_ the.'
2
'To harpe or carpe, whare-so þ_o_u gose,
Thom_a_s, þ_o_u sall hafe þe chose sothely:'
And he saide, Harpynge kepe I none,
Ffor tonge es chefe of mynstralsye.
3
'If þ_o_u will spelle, or tales telle,
Thom_a_s, þ_o_u sall neu_er_ lesynge lye;
Whare eu_er_ þ_o_u fare, by frythe or felle,
I praye the speke none euyll of me.
4
'Ffare wele, Thom_a_s, wit_h_-owttyn_e_ gyle,
I may no lengare duelle with the:'
'Lufly lady, habyde a while,
And telle þ_o_u me of some ferly.'
5
'Thom_a_s, herkyn_e_ what I the saye:' etc.
_Here begin the prophecies._
* * * * *
_~&~ and ~j~ are replaced by ~and~ and ~I~._
2^1. throstyll cokke: throstell, _Cambridge MS._
2^2. menyde hir.
10^1. _Wanting._ She led, etc., _Cambridge_.
12^4, 13^4. _Lansdowne_, elden; _Cambridge_, eldryn,
eldryn_e_.
16^2. prysse.
17^1. prysee.
17^3. wysse.
43^4. me by. _Cambridge_, be me.
46^4. also.
FYTT 2.
2^1. þ_o_u gose. _Cambridge_, ȝe gon.
[304] See the letter of Dr Anderson to Bishop Percy, December 29, 1800,
in Nichols's Illustrations of the Literary History of the Eighteenth
Century, VII, 178 f.
[305] Chambers' Popular Rhymes of Scotland, 1870, pp. 211-224. See,
also, Scott's Minstrelsy, IV, 110-116, 129-151, ed. 1833. But, above
all, Dr J. A. H. Murray's Introduction to The Romance and Prophecies of
Thomas of Erceldoune, 1875.
[306] Hector Boece (1527) says the surname was Leirmont, but there is no
evidence for this that is of value. See Murray, p. xiii.
[307] The five copies have been edited by Dr J. A. H. Murray, and
printed by the Early English Text Society. A reconstructed text by Dr
Alois Brandl makes the second volume of a Sammlung englischer Denkmäler
in kritischen Ausgaben, Berlin, 1880.
[308] Murray, pp xxiv-xxvii. As might be expected, the Latin texts
corrupt the names of persons and of places, and alter the results of
battles. Dr Murray remarks: "The oldest text makes the Scots win Halidon
Hill, with the slaughter of six thousand Englishmen, while the other
texts, wise after the fact, makes the Scots lose, as they actually did."
This, and the consideration that a question about the conflict between
the families of Bruce and Baliol would not be put after 1400, when the
Baliol line was extinct, disposes Dr Murray to think that verses 326-56
of the second fit, with perhaps the first fit, the conclusion of the
poem, and an indefinite portion of fit third, may have been written on
the eve of Halidon Hill, with a view to encourage the Scots.
[309] The poem, vv 675-80, says only that Thomas and the lady did not
part for ever and aye, but that she was to visit him at Huntley banks.