ページの画像
PDF
ePub

A feather'd arrow sharp, I ween,
Shall make him wink and warre to see.

Thomas the Rhymer.

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

PART THIRD.-MODERN.

BY WALTER SCOTT.

THOMAS THE RHYMER was renowned among his contemporaries, as the author of the celebrated romance of Sir Tristrem. Of this once-admired. poem only one copy is now known to exist, which is in the Advocates' Library. The Editor, in 1804, published a small edition of this curious work; which, if it does not revive the reputation of the bard of Ercildoune, is at least the earliest specimen of Scottish poetry hitherto published. Some account of this romance has already been given to the world in Mr. ELLIS's Specimens of Ancient Poetry, vol. i. p. 165, iii. p. 410; a work to which our predecessors and our posterity are alike obliged; the former, for the preservation of the bestselected examples of their poetical taste; and the latter, for a history of the English language, which will only cease to be interesting with the existence of our mother-tongue, and all that genius and learning have recorded in it. It is sufficient here to mention, that so great was the reputation of the romance of Sir Tristrem, that few were thought capable of reciting it after the manner of the author-a circumstance alluded to by Robert de Brunne, the annalist :

"I see in song, in sedgeyng tale,

Of Erceldoun, and of Kendale,

Now thame says as they thame wroght,
And in thare saying it semes nocht.
That thou may here in Sir Tristrem,
Over gestes it has the steme,
Over all that is or was;

If men it said as made Thomas," &c.

It appears, from a very curious MS. of the thirteenth century, penes Mr. Douce of London, containing a French metrical romance of Sir Tristrem, that the work of our Thomas the Rhymer was known, and referred to, by the minstrels of Normandy and Bretagne. Having arrived at a part of the romance where reciters were wont to differ in the mode of telling the story, the French bard expressly cites the authority of the poet of Ercildoune :

"Plusurs de nos granter ne volent,

Co que del naim dire se solent,
Ki femme Kaherdin dut aimer,
Li naim redut Tristram narrer,

"The burn of breid

Shall run fow reid."

Bannock-burn is the brook here meant. The Scots give the name of bannock to a thick round cake of unleavened bread.

E entusché par grant engin,
Quant il afole Kaherdin;
Pur cest plai e pur cest mal,
Enveiad Tristram Guvernal,
En Engleterre pur Ysolt:
THOMAS ICO granter ne volt,
Et si volt par raisun mostrer,
Qu' ico ne put pas esteer," &c.

l'he tale of Sir Tristrem, as narrated in the Edinburgh MS., is totally different from the volu minous romance in prose, originally compiled on the same subject by Rusticien de Puise, and analyzed by M. de Tressan; but agrees in every essential particular with the metrical performance just quoted, which is a work of much higher antiquity.

The following attempt to commemorate the Rhymer's poetical fame, and the traditional account of his marvellous return to Fairy Land, being entirely modern, would have been placed with greater propriety among the class of Modern Ballads, had it not been for its immediate connection with the first and second parts of the same story.

Thomas the Rhymer.

PART THIRD.

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,2

Pitch'd palliouns took their room,
And crested helms, and spears a-rowe,
Glanced gayly through the broom.

The Leader, rolling to the Tweed,
Resounds the ensenzie ;3

They roused the deer from Caddenhead,
To distant Torwoodlee.

1 Ruberslaw and Dunyon, are two hills near Jedburgh. An ancient tower near Ercildoune, belonging to a family of the name of Home. One of Thomas's prophecies is said o have run thus:

"Vengeance! vengeance! when and where?

On the house of Coldingknow, now and ever mair!"

The spot is rendered classical by its having given name to the beautiful melody called the Broom o' the Cowdenknows.

3 Ensenzie-War-cry, or gathering word.

The feast was spread in Ercildoune,

In Learmont's high and ancient hall: And there were knights of great renown, And ladies, laced in pall.

Nor lacked they, while they sat at dine,
The music nor 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 the 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, buoyant on the stormy main,
A parted wreck appears.'

He sung King Arthur's Table Round:
The Warrior of the Lake;

How courteous Gawaine met the wound,

And bled for ladies' sake.

But chief, in gentle 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;
When fierce 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.

4 Torwoodlee and Caddenhead are places in Selkirkshire; both the property of Mr. Pringle of Torwoodlee.

5 Quaighs-Wooden cups, composed of staves hooped to gether.

See Introduction to this ballad.

7 This stanza was quoted by the Edinburgh Reviewer, of 1804, as a noble contrast to the ordinary humility of the gen uine ballad diction.-ED.

See, in the Fabliaur of Monsieur le Grand, elegantly trans lated by the late Gregory Way, Esq., the tale of the Knight and the Sword. [Vol. ii. p. 3.]

[blocks in formation]

"Gin ye wad meet wi' me again,

Gang to the bonny banks of Fairnalie." Farnalie is now one of the seats of Mr. Pringle of Clifton M. P. for Selkirkshire. 1833.

[blocks in formation]

NOTE A.-P. 574.

APPENDIX.

From the Chartulary of the Trinity House of Soltra.
Advocates' Library, W. 4. 14.
ERSYLTON.

OMNIBUS has literas visuris vel audituris Thomas de Ercildoun filius et heres Thomæ Rymour de Ercildoun salutem in Domino., Noveritis me per fustem et baculum in pleno judicio resignasse ac per presentes quietem clamasse pro me et heredibus meis Magistro domus Sanctæ Trinitatis de Soltre et fratribus ejusdem domus totam terram meam cum omnibus pertinentibus suis quam in tenemento de Ercildoun hereditarie tenui renunciando de toto pro me et heredibus meis omni jure et clameo quæ ego seu antecessores mei in eadem terra alioque tempore de perpetuo habuimus sive de futuro habere possumus. In cujus rei testimonio presentibus his sigillum meum apposui data apud Ercildoun die Martis proximo post festum Sanctorum Apostolorum Symonis et Jude Anno Domini Millesimo cc. Nonagesimo Nono.

NOTE B.-P. 576.

The reader is here presented, from an old, and unfortunately an imperfect MS, with the undoubted original of Thomas the Rhymer's intrigue with the Queen of Faery. It will afford great amusement to those who would study the nature of traditional poetry, and the changes effected by oral tradition, to compare this ancient romance with the foregoing ballad. The same incidents are narrated, even the expression is often the same; yet the poems are as different in appearance, as if the older tale had been regularly and systematically modernized by a poet of the present day.

Incipit Prophesia Thome de Erseldoun.

In a lande as I was lent,

In the gry king of the day,

Ay alone as I went,

In Huntle bankys me for to play;

I saw the throstyl, and the jay,
Ye mawes movyde of her song,
Ye wodwale sange notes gay,
That al the wod about range.
In that longyng as I lay,

Undir nethe a dern tre,

I was war of a lady gay,
Come rydyng ouyr a fairle :
Zogh I suld sitt to domysday,
With my tong to wrabbe and wry
Certenly all hyr aray,

It beth neuyer discryuyd for me.
Hyr palfra was dappyll gray,
Sycke on say neuer none;
As the son in somers day,
All abowte that lady schone.
Hyr sadel was of a rewel bone,
A semly syght it was to se,
Bryht with mony a precyous stone
And compasyd all with crapste;
Stones of oryens, gret plente,
Her hair about her hede it hang,

She rode ouer the farmyle,

A while she blew, a while she sang, Her girths of nobil silke they were, Her boculs were of beryl stone,

Sadyll and brydil war - - ;

With sylk and sendel about bedone,

Hyr patyrel was of a pall fyne,
And hyr croper of the arase,
Her brydil was of gold fine,

On euery syde forsothe hang bells thr
Her brydil reynes

A semly syzt Crop and patyrel In every joynt

She led thre grew houndes in a leash,
And ratches cowpled by her ran;
She bar an horn about her halse,
And undir her gyrdil mene flene.
Thomas lay and sa- - -

In the bankes of

He sayd Yonder is Mary of Might,

That bar the child that died for me,

Certes bot I may speke with that lady brigh,

Myd my hert will breke in three;

I schal me hye with all my might,
Hyr to mete at Eldyn Tre.
Thomas rathly up her rase,
And ran ouer mountayn hye,
If it he sothe the story says,

He met her euyn at Eldyn Tre.
Thomas knelyd down on his kne
Undir nethe the grenewood spray,

And sayd, Lovely lady, thou rue on me,
Queen of Heaven as you may well be.
But I am a lady of another countrie,
If I be pareld most of prise,

I ride after the wild fee,

My ratches rinnen at my devys.
.f thou be pareld most of prise,
And rides a lady in strang foly,
Lovely lady, as thou art wise,
Giue you me leue to lige ye by.
Do way, Thomas, that were foly,
I pray ye, Thomas, late me be,
That sin will fordo all my bewtie.
Lovely ladye, rewe on me,

And euer more I shall with ye dwell,
Here my trowth I plyght to thee,
Where you belieues in heuin or hell.
Thomas, and you myght lyge me by,
Undir nethe this grene wode spray,
Thou would tell full hastely,
That thou had layn by a lady gay.
Lady, mote I lyge by the,
Undir nethe the grene wode tre,
For all the gold in chrystenty,
Suld you neuer be wryede for me.
Man on molde you will me marre,
And yet bot you may haf your will,

Trow you well, Thomas, you cheuyst ye warre
For all my bewtie wilt you spill.
Down lyghted that lady bryzt,
Undir nethe the grene wode spray,
And as ye story sayth full ryzt,
Seuyn tymes by her he lay.

She sayd, Man, you lyst thi play.

What berde in bouyr may dele with thee,

That maries me all this long day;

I

pray ye, Thomas, let me be.

Thomas stode up in the stede,

And behelde the lady gay,

Her heyre hang down about hyr hede,
The tane was blak, the other gray,
Her eyn semyt onte before was gray,
Her gay clethyng was all away,

That he before had sene in that stede
Hyr body as blow as ony bede.
Thomas sighede, and sayd. Allas,
Me thynke this a dullfu!! syght,
That thou art fadyd in the face,
Before you shone as son so bryzt.
Tak thy leue, Thomas, at son and mone
At gresse, and at euery tre,
This twelmonth sall
you with me gone
Medyl erth you sall not se.
Alas, he seyd, ful wo is me,

I trow my dedes will werke me care,
Jesu, my sole tak to ye,
Whedir so euyr my body sal fare.
She rode furth with all her myzt,
Undir nethe the derne lee,

It was as derke as at midnizt,
And euyr in water unto the kne;
Through the space of days thre,
He herde but swowyng of a flode;
Thomas sayd, Ful wo is me,
Now I spyll for fawte of fode;
To a garden she lede him tyte,
There was fruyte in grete plente,
Peyres and appless ther were rype,
The date and the damese,

The figge and als fy.bert tre;

The nyghtyngale bredyng in her neste,
The papigaye about gan fle,

The throstylcock sang wald hafe no rest.
He pressed to pulle fruyt with his hand,
As man for faute that was faynt;
She seyd, Thomas, lat al stand,
Or els the deuyl wil the ataynt.
Sche seyd, Thomas, I the hyzt,
To lay thi hede upon my kne,
And thou shalt see fayrer syght,
Than euyr sawe man in their kintre.
Sees thou, Thomas, yon fayr way,
That lyggs ouyr yone fayr playn ?
Yonder is the way to heuyn for ay,
Whan synful sawles haf derayed their
Sees thou, Thomas, yon secund way,
That lygges lawe undir the ryse?
Streight is the way, sothly to say,
To the joyes of paradyce.
Sees thou, Thomas, yon thyrd way,
That lygges ouyr yone how ?
Wide is the way, sothly to say,
To the brynyng fyres of helle.

Sees thou, Thomas, yone fayr castell,
That standes ouyr yone fair hill?

payne.

Of town and tower it beereth the belle,
In middell erth is none like theretill.
Whan thou comyst in yone castell gaye,

I pray thee curteis man to be;
What so any man to you say,
Loke thu answer none but me.
My lord is servyd at yche messe,
With xxx kniztes feir and fre;

I shall say syttyng on the dese,

I toke thy speche beyone the le.

Thomas stode as still as stone,
And behelde that ladye gaye;

Than was sche fayr, and ryche anone,

And also ryal on hir palfreye.

The grewhoundes had fylde thaim on the dere,

The raches coupled, by my fay,

She blewe her horne Thomas to chere,

To the castell she went her way.
The ladye into the hall went,
Thomas folowyd at her hand;
Thar kept her mony a lady gent,
With curtasy and lawe.
Harp and fedyl both he fande,
The getern and the sawtry,

Lut and rybid ther gon gan,
Thair was al maner of mynstralsy,
The most fertly that Thomas thoght,
When he com emyddes the flore,
Fourty hertes to quarry were broght,
That had been befor both long and store.
Lymors lay lappyng blode,

And kokes standyng with dressyng knyfe,
And dressyd dere as thai wer wode,

And rewell was thair wonder.
Knyghtes dansyd by two and thre,
All that leue long day.
Ladyes that were gret of gre,

Sat and sang of rych array.

Thomas sawe much more in that place,

Than I can descryve,

Til on a day, alas, alas,

My lovelye ladye sayd to me,

Busk ye, Thomas, you must agayn,

Here you may no longer be:

Hy then zerne that you were at hame,

I sal ye bryng to Eldy Tre

« 前へ次へ »