The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott/Thomas The Rhymer
THOMAS THE RHYMER.
IN THREE PARTS.
Few personages are so renowned in tradition as Thomas of Ercildoune, known by the appellation of The Rhymer. Uniting, or supposing to unite, in his person, the powers of poetical composition and of vaticination, his memory, even after the lapse of five hundred years, is regarded with veneration by his countrymen. To give anything like a certain history of this remarkable man would be indeed difficult; but the curious may derive some satisfaction from the particulars here brought together.
It is agreed on all hands, that the residence, and probably the birthplace, of this ancient bard, was Ercildoune, a village situated upon the Leader, two miles above its junction with the Tweed. The ruins of an ancient tower are still pointed out as the Rhymer's castle. The uniform tradition bears, that his surname was Lermont, or Learmont; and that the appellation of The Rhymer a conferred upon him in consequence of his poetical compositions. There remains, nevertheless, some doubt upon the subject.
We are better able to ascertain the period at which Thomas of Ercildoune lived, being the latter end of the thirteenth century. I am inclined to place his death a little farther back than Mr. Pinkerton, who supposes that he was alive in 1300 {List of Scottish Poets). It cannot be doubted, that Thomas of Ercildoune was a remarkable and important person in his own time, since, very shortly after his death, we find him celebrated as a prophet and as a poet. Whether he himself made any pretensions to the first of these characters, or whether it was gratuitously conferred upon him by the credulity of posterity, it seems difficult to decide. If we may believe Mackenzie, Learmont only versified the prophecies delivered by Eliza, an inspired nun of a convent at Haddington. But of this there seems not to be most distant proof. On the contrary, all ancient authors, who quote the Rhymer's prophecies, uniformly suppose them to have been emitted by himself.
The popular tale bears, that Thomas was carried off, at an early age, to the Fairy Land, where he acquired all the knowledge, which made him afterwards so famous. After seven years' residence, he was permitted to return to the earth, to enlighten and astonish his countrymen by his prophetic powers; still, however, remaining bound to return to bis royal mistress, when she should intimate her pleasure. Accordingly, while Thomas was making merry with his friends in the Tower of Ercildoune, a person came running in, and told, with marks of fear and astonishment, that a hart and hind had left the neighbouring 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. According to the popular belief, he still "drees his weird" in Fairy Land, and is one day expected to revisit earth. In the meanwhile, his memory is held in the most profound respect. The Eildon Tree, from beneath the shade of which he delivered his prophecies, now no longer exists; but the spot is marked by a large stone, called the Eildon Tree Stone. A neighbouring rivulet takes the name of the Bogle Burn (Goblin Brook) from the Rhymer's supernatural visitants.
It seemed to the Editor unpardonable to dismiss a person so important in Border tradition as the Rhymer, without some farther notice than a simple commentary upon the following ballad. It is given from a copy, obtained from a lady residing not far from Ercildoune, corrected and enlarged by one in Mrs. Brown's MSS. The former copy, however, as might be expected, is far more minute as to local description. To this old tale the Editor has ventured to add a Second Part, consisting of a kind of cento, from the printed prophecies vulgarly ascribed to the Rhymer; and a Third Part, entirely modern, founded upon the tradition of his having returned with the hart and hind, to the Land of Faërie. To make his peace with the more severe antiquaries, the Editor has prefixed to the Second Part some remarks on Learmont's prophecies,
PART FIRST.
A ferlie[1] he spied wi' his e'e;[2]
And there he saw a ladye bright,
Come riding down by the Eildon Tree,
Her mantle o' the velvet fyne;
At ilka[3] tett of her horse's mane,
Hang fifty siller bells and nine.
And louted low down to his knee,—
"All hail, thou mighty queen of heaven!
For thy peer on earth I never did see."
"That name does not belang to me;
I am but the queen of fair Elfland,
That am hither come to visit thee.
"Harp and carp along with me;
And if ye dare to kiss my lips,
Sure of your bodie I will be."
That weird shall never danton me.[5]"
Syne he has kissed her rosy lips,
All underneath the Eildon Tree.
"True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me;
And ye maun serve me seven years,
Through weal or woe as may chance to be."
She's ta'en true Thomas up behind;
And aye, when'er her bridle rung,
The steed flew swifter than the wind.
The steed gaed swifter than the wind,
Until they reached a desart wide,
And living land was left behind.
And lean your head upon my knee:
Abide, and rest a little space,
And I will show you ferlies three.
So thick beset with thorns and briers?—
That is the path of righteousness,
Though after it but few inquires.
That lies across that lily leven?[6]—
That is the path of wickedness,
Though some call it the road to heaven.
That winds about the fernie brae?—
That is the road to fair Elfland,
Where thou and I this night maun gae.
Whatever ye may hear or see;
For, if you speak word in Elflyn land,
Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain countrie."
And they waded through rivers aboon[7] the knee,
And they saw neither sun nor moon,
But they heard the roaring of the sea.
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.
And she pu'd an apple frae a tree[10]—
"Take this for thy wages, true Thomas;
It will give thee the tongue that can never lie."
"A gudely gift ye wad gie to me!
I neither dought[11] to buy nor sell,
At fair or tryst where I may be.
Nor ask of grace from fair ladye."
"Now hold thy peace!" the ladye said,
"For, as I say, so must it be."
And a pair of shoes of velvet green;
And, till seven years were gane and past,
True Thomas on earth was never seen.
PART SECOND.
ALTERED FROM ANCIENT PROPHECIES.
The prophecies, ascribed to Thomas of Ercildoune have been the principal means of securing to him remembrance "amongst the sons of his people." The author of "Sir Tristrem" would long ago have joined, in the vale of oblivion, "Clerk of Tranent, who wrote the adventure of 'Schir Gawain,'" if, by good hap, the same current of ideas respecting antiquity, which causes Virgil to be regarded as a magician by the Lazaroni of Naples, had not exalted the bard of Ercildoune to the prophetic character. Perhaps, indeed, he himself affected it during his life. We know, at least, for certain, that a belief in his supernatural knowledge was current soon after his death. His prophecies are alluded to by Barbour, by Winton, and by Henry the Minstrel, or Blind Harry, as he is usually termed. None of these authors, however, give the words of any of the Rhymer's vaticinations, but merely narrate, historically, his having predicted the events of which they speak. The earliest of the prophecies ascribed to him, which is now extant, is quoted by Mr. Pinkerton from a MS. It is supposed to be a response from Thomas of Ercildoune to a question from the heroic countess of March, renowned for the defence of the Castle of Dunbar against the English, and termed, in the familiar dialect of her time, Black Agnes of Dunbar. This prophecy is remarkable, in so far as it bears very little resemblance to any verses published in the printed copy of the Rhymer's supposed prophecies.
Corspatrick (Comes Patrick), earl of March, but more commonly taking his title from his castle of Dunbar, acted a noted part during the wars of Edward I. in Scotland. As Thomas of Ercildoune is said to have delivered to him his famous prophecy of King Alexander's death, the author has chosen to introduce him into the following ballad. All the prophetic verses are selected from Hart's publication.
The sun blinked fair on pool and stream;
And Thomas lay on Huntlie bank,
Like one awakened from a dream.
He saw the flash of armour flee,
And he beheld a gallant knight
Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.
Of giant make he 'peared to be:
He stirred his horse, as he were wode,[12]
Wi' gilded spurs, of faushion free.
Some uncouth ferlies show to me."
Says—"Christ thee save, Corspatrick brave!
Thrice welcome, good Dunbar, to me!
And I will show thee curses three,
Shall gar fair Scotland greet and grane,
And change the green to the black livery.
From Rosse's Hills to Solway Sea."
"Ye lied, ye lied, ye warlock hoar!
For the sun shines sweet on fauld and lea."
He showed him a rock, beside the sea,
Where a king lay stiff, beneath his steed,[13]
And steel-dight nobles wiped their e'e.
By Flodden's high and heathery side,
Shall wave a banner, red as blude.
And chieftains throng wi' meikle pride.
The ruddy lion beareth he:
A feathered arrow sharp, I ween,
Shall make him wink and warre to see.
Thus to his men he still shall say—
'For God's sake, turn ye back again,
And give yon southern folk a fray!
Why should I lose the right is mine?
My doom is not to die this day.'[14]
And woe and wonder ye sail see;
How forty thousand spearmen stand,
Where yon rank river meets the sea.
And the libbards[15] bear it clean away;
At Pinkyn Cleuch there shall be spilt
Much gentil blude that day."
Some blessing show thou now to me,
Or, by the faith o' my bodie," Corspatrick said,
"Ye shall rue the day ye e'er saw me!"
Is by a burn, that's called of bread;
Where Saxon men shall tine the bow,
And find their arrows lack the head.
Where the water bickereth bright and sheen,
Shall many a falling courser spurn,
And knights shall die in battle keen.
The libbards there shall lose the gree;[16]
The raven shall come, the erne shall go,
And drink the Saxon blood sae free.
The cross of stone they shall not know,
So thick the corses there shall be."
"True Thomas, tell now unto me,
What man shall rule the isle Britain,
Even from the north to the southern sea?"
Shall rule all Britain to the sea;
He of the Bruce's blood shall come,
As near as in the ninth degree.
Likewise the waves of the farthest sea;
For they shall ride ower ocean wide,
With hempen bridles, and horse of tree."
PART THIRD.
MODERN.
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, part iii. 410; a work to which our predecessors and our posterity are alike obliged; the former, for the preservation of the best-selected 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.
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.
Was war through Scotland spread,
And Ruberslaw showed high Dunyon
His beacon blazing red.
Pitched palliouns[17] took their room,
And crested helms, and spears a rowe,
Glanced gaily through the broom.
Resounds the ensenzie;[18]
They roused the deer from Caddenhead,
To distant Torwoodlee.
In Learmont's high and ancient hall;
And there were knights of great renown,
And ladies, laced in pall.
The music nor the tale,
Nor goblets of the blood-red wine,
Nor mantling quaighs[19] of ale.
When as the feast was done;
(In minstrel strife, in Fairy Land,
The elfin harp he won.)
And harpers for envy pale;
And armèd lords leaned on their swords,
And hearkened to the tale.
The prophet poured along;
No after bard might e'er avail
Those numbers to prolong
Float down the tide of years,
As, buoyant on the stormy main,
A parted wreck appears.
The warrior of the lake;
How courteous Gawaine met the wound,
And bled for ladies' sake.
The notes melodious swell;
Was none excelled in Arthur's days,
The knight of Lionelle.
A venomed wound he bore;
When fierce Morholde he la in fight,
Upon the Irish shore.
No medicine could be found,
Till lovely Isolde's lilye hand
Had probed the rankling wound.
She bore the leech's part;
And, while she o'er his sick-bed hung,
He paid her with his heart.
For, doomed in evil tide,
The maid must be rude Cornwall's queen,
His cowardly uncle's bride.
In fairy tissue wove;
Where lords, and knights, and ladies bright,
In gay confusion strove.
High reared its glittering head;
And Avalon's enchanted vale
In all its wonders spread.
And fiend-born Merlin's gramarye;
Of that famed wizard's mighty lore,
O who could sing but he?
In changeful passion led,
Till bent at length the listening throng
O'er Tristrem's dying bed.
With agony his heart is wrung:
O where is Isolde's lilye hand,
And where her soothing tongue?
Can lovers' footsteps fly:
She comes, she comes!—she only came
To see her Tristrem die.
Joined in a kiss his parting breath:
The gentlest pair that Britain bare,
United are in death.
Died slowly on the ear;
The silent guests still bent around,
For still they seemed to hear.
Nor ladies heaved alone the sigh;
But, half ashamed, the rugged cheek
Did many a gauntlet dry.
The mists of evening close;
In camp, in castle, or in bower
Each warrior sought repose.
Dreamed o'er the woeful tale;
When footsteps light, across the bent,
The warrior's ears assail.
Arise, my page, arise!
What venturous wight, at dead of night,
Dare step where Douglas lies?"
A selcouth[20] sight they see—
A hart and hind pace side by side,
As white as snow on Fairnalie.
They stately move and slow;
Nor scare they at the gathering crowd,
Who marvel as they go.
As fast as page might run;
And Thomas started from his bed,
And soon his clothes did on.
Never a word he spake but three;—
"My sand is run; my thread is spun;
This sign regardeth me."
In minstrel guise, he hung;
And on the wind, in doleful sound,
Its dying accents rung.
To view his ancient hall;
On the grey tower, in lustre soft,
The autumn moonbeams fall.
Danced shimmering in the ray:
In deepening mass, at distance seen,
Broad Soltra's mountains lay.
A long farewell," said he:
"The scene of pleasure, pomp, or power,
Thou never more shalt be.
Shall here again belong,
And on thy hospitable hearth
The hare shall leave her young.
All as he turned him roun'—
"Farewell to Leader's silver tide!
Farewell to Ercildoune!"
As lingering yet he stood;
And there, before Lord Douglas' face,
With them he crossed the flood.
And spurred him the Leader o'er;
But, though he rode with lightning speed,
He never saw them more.
Their wondrous course had been;
But ne'er in haunts of living men
Again was Thomas seen.
- ↑ A wonder.—Jamieson.
- ↑ The eye.
- ↑ Each.
- ↑ Sing.
- ↑ That weird, &c.— That destiny shall never frighten me.
- ↑ Lily leven is a lawn overspread with lilies or flowers.—Jamieson.
- ↑ Above
- ↑ Dark.
- ↑ Star.
- ↑ The traditional commentary upon this ballad informs us, that the apple was the produce of the fatal Tree of Knowledge, and that the garden was the terrestrial paradise. The repugnance of Thomas to be debarred the use of falsehood when he might find it convenient, has a comic effect.
- ↑ Am able.
- ↑ Mad.
- ↑ King Alexander, killed by a fall from his horse, near Kinghorn
- ↑ The uncertainty which long prevailed in Scotland concerning the fate of James IV. is well known.
- ↑ Leopards.
- ↑ Prize.
- ↑ Tents
- ↑ War-cry, or gathering-word
- ↑ Wooden cups, composed of staves hooped together.
- ↑ Wondrous.