Thomas the Rhymer
Child #37 7:10 V, G, OM & Flute (F).
Thomas the Rhymer, alias Thomas of Ercildoune, was a 13th century Scottish seer, but whether he got his celebrated gift of prophecy from this meeting with the Queen of Elfland is hard to say. The Eildon Hills, including the Eildon Tree and Huntlie Bank, are located not far from the ancestral home of another weaver of word magic, the poet and novelist Sir Walter Scott of Abbotsford, who lived there in the early 19th century and himself hunted for traditional songs and ballads.
Thomas the Rhymer, alias Thomas of Ercildoune, was a 13th century Scottish seer, but whether he got his celebrated gift of prophecy from this meeting with the Queen of Elfland is hard to say. The Eildon Hills, including the Eildon Tree and Huntlie Bank, are located not far from the ancestral home of another weaver of word magic, the poet and novelist Sir Walter Scott of Abbotsford, who lived there in the early 19th century and himself hunted for traditional songs and ballads.
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True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank,
A wonder he spied with his ee; For there he saw a ladye bright, Come riding down by the Eildon tree. Her shirt was of the grass-green silk, Her mantle of the velvet fine; At every tuft of her horse’s mane Hung fifty silver bells and nine. True Thomas, he pulled off his cap And louted low down to his knee, “All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven! For thy peer on earth I did never see.” “O no, O no, Thomas,” she said, “That name does not belong to me; I am but the Queen of fair Elfland, 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 body I will be.” “Betide me weal, betide me woe, That doom shall never daunton me.” Soon he has kissed her rosy lips, All underneath the Eildon tree. “Now, ye maun go with me,” she said, “True Thomas, ye maun go with me; And ye maun serve me seven years, Thro’ weal or woe as may chance to be.” She’s mounted on her milk-white steed; And ta’en true Thomas up behind, And aye, whene’er her bridle rang, The steed flew swifter than the wind. O they rode on, and farther on, The steed gaed swifter than the wind, Until they reached a desert wide, For 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 wonders three.” |
“O see ye not yon narrow road,
So thick beset with thorns and briers? That is the path of righteousness, Though after it but few enquires.” “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 about 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 you speak in Elfyn land, Ye’ll never get back to your ain countrie.”O they rode 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, there was nae starlight, And they waded through red blood to the knee; For all the blood that’s shed on earth Runs through the springs of that countrie. Then they came on to a garden green, And she pulled 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 goodly gift ye would give to me! For I could neither buy nor sell At fair or tryst where I may be.” “I could neither speak to prince nor peer, Nor ask of grace from fair lady.” “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 green; And till seven years were gone and past, True Thomas on earth was never seen. |
