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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345830" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Thomas the Rhymer</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank; <br> A ferlie he spied wi' his e'e; <br>And there he saw a ladye bright <br> Come riding down by the Eildon Tree. <br> <br>Her skirt was o' the grass-green silk, <br> Her mantle o' the velvet fyne; <br>At ilka tett o' her horse's mane, <br> Hung fifty siller bells and nine. <br> <br>True Thomas he pu'd aff his cap, <br> And louted low down on his knee <br>'Hail to thee Mary, Queen of Heaven! <br> For thy peer on earth could never be.' <br> <br>'O no, O no, Thomas' she said, <br> 'That name does not belang to me; <br>I'm but the Queen o' fair Elfland, <br> That am hither come to visit thee. <br> <br>'Harp and carp, Thomas,' she said; <br> 'Harp and carp along wi' me; <br>And if ye dare to kiss my lips, <br> Sure of your bodie I will be.' <br> <br>'Betide me weal; betide me woe, <br> That weird shall never daunten me.' <br>Syne he has kiss'd her rosy lips, <br> All underneath the Eildon Tree. <br> <br>'Now ye maun go wi' me,' she said, <br> 'True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me; <br>And ye maun serve me seven years, <br> Thro' weal or woe as may chance to be.' <br> <br>She 's mounted on her milk-white steed, <br> She 's ta'en true Thomas up behind; <br>And aye, whene'er her bridle rang, <br> The steed gaed swifter than the wind. <br> <br>O they rade on, and farther on, <br> The steed gaed swifter than the wind; <br>Until they reach'd a desert wide, <br> And living land was left behind. <br> <br>'Light down, light down now, true Thomas, <br> And lean your head upon my knee; <br>Abide ye there a little space, <br> And I will show you ferlies three. <br> <br>'O see ye not yon narrow road, <br> So thick beset wi' thorns and briers? <br>That is the Path of Righteousness, <br> Though after it but few inquires. <br> <br>'And see ye not yon braid, braid road, <br> That lies across the lily leven? <br>That is the Path of Wickedness, <br> Though some call it the Road to Heaven. <br> <br>'And see ye not yon bonny road <br> That winds about the fernie brae? <br>That is the Road to fair Elfland, <br> Where thou and I this night maun gae. <br> <br>'But, Thomas, ye sall haud your tongue, <br> Whatever ye may hear or see; <br>For speak ye word in Elfyn-land, <br> Ye'll ne'er win back to your ain countrie.' <br> <br>O they rade on, and farther on, <br> And they waded rivers abune the knee; <br>And they saw neither sun nor moon, <br> But they heard the roaring of the sea. <br> <br>It was mirk, mirk night, there was nae starlight, <br> They waded thro' red blude to the knee; <br>For a' the blude that 's shed on the earth <br> Rins through the springs o' that countrie. <br> <br>Syne they came to a garden green, <br> And she pu'd an apple frae a tree: <br>'Take this for thy wages, true Thomas; <br> It will give thee the tongue that can never lee.' <br> <br>'My tongue is my ain,' true Thomas he said; <br> 'A gudely gift ye wad gie to me! <br>I neither dought to buy or sell <br> At fair or tryst where I might be. <br> <br>'I dought neither speak to prince or peer, <br> Nor ask of grace from fair ladye!'— <br>'Now haud thy peace, Thomas,' she said, <br> 'For as I say, so must it be.' <br> <br>He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, <br> And a pair o' shoon of the velvet green; <br>And till seven years were gane and past, <br> True Thomas on earth was never seen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anonymous+Americas">Anonymous Americas</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345830" data-title="Thomas the Rhymer de Anonymous Americas" data-description="True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank; A ferlie he spied wi' his e'e; And there he saw a ladye bright Come riding down by the Eildon Tree. Her skirt was o' the grass-green silk, Her mantle o' the velvet fyne; At ilka tett o' her horse's mane,..."></div> </div> </div>
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