POPULAR BRITISH BALLADS ANCIENT AND MODERN By Various Chosen and edited by R. Brimley Johnson Illustrated By W. C. Cooke In Four Volumes Volume II 1894 [Illustration: 0036] THOMAS THE RHYMER |True Thomas lay o'er yon grassy bank; And he beheld a lady gay; A lady that was brisk and bold, Come riding o'er the ferny brae. Her shirt was o' the grass-green silk, Her mantle o' the velvet fine; At ilka tett of her horse's mane, Hung fifty silver bells and nine. 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." "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 am come here for to visit thee. (_tett_, tuft.) "Harp and carp, Thomas," she said; "Harp and carp along wi' me; And if ye dare to kiss my lips, Sure of your body I will be."-- [Illustration: 0037] "Betide me weal, betide me woe, That weird shall never daunton me." Syne he has kissed her rosy lips, All underneath the Eildon Tree. "But ye maun go wi' me, now, Thomas; True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me; For ye maun serve me seven years, Thro' weal or woe as may chance to be," (_Harp and carp_, chat.) She turned about her milk-white steed; And took true Thomas up behind: And aye, whene'er her bridle rang, The steed flew swifter than the wind. 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. [Illustration: 0038] O they rade on, and farther on; Until they came to a garden green, "Light down, light down, ye lady free, Some of that fruit let me pull to thee." "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 country. "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." When he had eaten and drunk his fill-- "Lay down your head upon my knee," The lady said, "ere we climb yon hill, And I will shew you ferlies three. "O see not ye yon narrow road, So thick beset with thorns and briars? 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 not ye that bonny road, That winds about the ferny brae? That is the road to fair Elfiand, Where you and I this night maun gae. "But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue, Whatever ye may hear or see; For, gin ae word you should chance to speak, Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain country."