Read Ebook: Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border Volume 3 (of 3) Consisting of Historical and Romantic Ballads Collected in the Southern Counties of Scotland; with a Few of Modern Date Founded Upon Local Tradition by Scott Walter

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Ebook has 941 lines and 67912 words, and 19 pages

Another prediction, ascribed to the Rhymer, seems to have been founded on that sort of insight into futurity, possessed by most men of a sound and combining judgement. It runs thus:

At Eildon Tree if you shall be, A brigg ower Tweed you there may see.

The spot in question commands an extensive prospect of the course of the river; and it was easy to foresee, that, when the country should become in the least degree improved, a bridge would be somewhere thrown over the stream. In fact, you now see no less than three bridges from that elevated situation.

THOMAS THE RHYMER.

PART SECOND.

When seven years were come and gane, The sun blinked fair on pool and stream; And Thomas lay on Huntlie bank, Like one awakened from a dream.

He heard the trampling of a steed, He saw the flash of armour flee, And he beheld a gallant knight, Come riding down by the Eildon-tree.

He was a stalwart knight, and strong; Of giant make he 'peared to be: He stirr'd his horse, as he were wode, Wi' gilded spurs, of faushion free.

Says--"Well met, well met, true Thomas! Some uncouth ferlies shew to me." Says--"Christ thee save, Corspatrick brave! Thrice welcome, good Dunbar, to me!

"Light down, light down, Corspatrick brave, "And I will shew thee curses three, "Shall gar fair Scotland greet and grane, "And change the green to the black livery.

"A storm shall roar, this very hour, "From Rosse's Hills to Solway sea. "Ye lied, ye lied, ye warlock hoar! "For the sun shines sweet on fauld and lea."

He put his hand on the earlie's head; He shewed him a rock, beside the sea, Where a king lay stiff, beneath his steed, And steel-dight nobles wiped their e'e.

"A Scottish king shall come full keen; "The ruddy lion beareth he: "A feather'd arrow sharp, I ween, "Shall make him wink and warre to see.

"When he is bloody, and all to bledde, "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.'

"Yet turn ye to the eastern hand, "And woe and wonder ye sall see; "How forty thousand spearmen stand, "Where yon rank river meets the sea.

"There shall the lion lose the gylte, "And the libbards bear it clean away; "At Pinkyn Cleuch there shall be spilt "Much gentil blude that day."

"Enough, enough, of curse and ban; "Some blessing shew thou now to me, "Or, by the faith o' my bodie," Corspatrick said, "Ye shall rue the day ye e'er saw me!"

"The first of blessings I shall thee shew, "Is by a burn, that's call'd of bread; "Where Saxon men shall tine the bow, "And find their arrows lack the head.

"Beside that brigg, out ower that burn, "Where the water bickereth bright and sheen, "Shall many a falling courser spurn, "And knights shall die in battle keen.

"Beside a headless cross of stone, "The libbards there shall lose the gree; "The raven shall come, the erne shall go, "And drink the Saxon blude sae free. "The cross of stone they shall not know, "So thick the corses there shall be."

"But tell me now," said brave Dunbar, "True Thomas, tell now unto me, "What man shall rule the isle Britain, "Even from the north to the southern sea?"

"A French queen shall bear the son, "Shall rule all Britain to the sea: "He of the Bruce's blude shall come, "As near as in the ninth degree.

"The waters worship shall his race; "Likewise the waves of the farthest sea; "For they shall ride ower ocean wide, "With hempen bridles, and horse of tree."

FOOTNOTES:

I do not know, whether the person here meant be Waldhave, an abbot of Melrose, who died in the odour of sanctity, about 1160.

The strange occupation, in which Waldhave beholds Merlin engaged, derives some illustration from a curious passage in Geoffrey of Monmouth's life of Merlin, above quoted. The poem, after narrating, that the prophet had fled to the forests in a state of distraction, proceeds to mention, that, looking upon the stars one clear evening, he discerned, from his astrological knowledge, that his wife, Guendolen, had resolved, upon the next morning, to take another husband. As he had presaged to her that this would happen, and had promised her a nuptial gift , he now resolved to make good his word. Accordingly, he collected all the stags and lesser game in his neighbourhood; and, having seated himself upon a buck, drove the herd before him to the capital of Cumberland, where Guendolen resided. But her lover's curiosity leading him to inspect too nearly this extraordinary cavalcade, Merlin's rage was awakened, and he slew him with the stroke of an antler of the stag. The original runs thus:

The heart was the cognizance of Morton.

King Alexander; killed by a fall from his horse, near Kinghorn.

One of Thomas's rhymes, preserved by tradition, runs thus:

The burn of breid Shall run fow reid."

THOMAS THE RHYMER.

PART THIRD--MODERN.

BY THE EDITOR.

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.

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 shew'd high Dunyon, His beacon blazing red.

Then all by bonny Coldingknow, Pitched palliouns took their room, And crested helms, and spears a rowe, Glanced gaily through the broom.

The Leader, rolling to the Tweed, Resounds the ensenzie; They roused the deer from Caddenhead, To distant Torwoodlee.

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;

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 excelled, in Arthur's days, The knight of Lionelle.

For Marke, his cowardly uncle's right, A venomed 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 lilye hand Had probed the rankling wound.

With gentle hand and soothing tongue, She bore the leech's part; And, while she o'er his sick-bed hung, He paid her with his heart.

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