'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 ye not that bonny road, That winds about the fernie brae? That is the road to fair Elfland, Where thou and I this night maun gae. 'But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue, Whatever ye may hear or see; For, if ye speak word in Elfyn land, Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain countrie.' O they rade on, and farther on, And they waded through rivers aboon the knee, And they saw neither sun nor moon, But they heard the roaring of the sea. It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern light, He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, And a pair of shoes of velvet green; And till seven years were gane and past True Thomas on earth was never seen. PART II. (MODERNIZED FROM THE PROPHECIES.) WHEN Seven years were comeand gane, The sun blink'd fair on pool and stream; And Thomas lay on Huntlie bank, Like one awaken'd 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 Eildontree. He was a stalwart knight, and strong; Of giant make he 'pear'd to be: And they waded through red blude 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 show to me.' Says 'Christ thee save, Corspatrick brave! Thrice welcome, good Dunbar, to me! 'Light down, light down, Corspatrick brave! And I will show 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 Ross's hills to Solway sea.' 'Ye lied, ye lied, ye warlock hoar! For the sun shines sweet on fauld and lee.' '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 bluid that day.' 'Enough, enough, of curse and ban; Some blessings show thou now to me, Or, by the faith o' my bodie,' Cors. patrick said, 'Ye shall rue the day ye e'er saw me!' 'The first of blessings I shall thee show, Is by a burn that 's call'd of bread; Where Saxon men shall tine the bow, And find their arrows lack the head. 1 Bannock-burn. ‘Beside that brigg, out-ower that burn, Where the water bickereth bright and sheen, Shall many a fallen 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 bluid 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 blood 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 over ocean wide, With hempen bridles, and horse of tree.' PART III. (MODERN.) 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, Pitch'd palliouns took their room, And crested helms, and spears a-rowe, Glanced gaily through the broom. The Leader, rolling to the Tweed, They roused the deer from Caddenhead, To distant Torwoodlee. She saw him die; her latest sigh Join'd in a kiss his parting breath; The gentlest pair that Britain bare United are in death. There paused the harp: its lingering sound Died slowly on the ear; The silent guests still bent around, For still they seem'd to hear. Then woe broke forth in murmurs weak: Nor ladies heaved alone the sigh; But, half ashamed, the rugged cheek Did many a gauntlet dry. On Leader's stream and Learmont's tower The mists of evening close; In camp in castle or in bower Each warrior sought repose. Lord Douglas in his lofty tent Dream'd o'er the woeful tale; When footsteps light across the bent The warrior's ears assail. He starts, he wakes: 'What, Richard, ho! Arise, my page, arise! What venturous wight at dead of night Dare step where Douglas lies?' Then forth they rush'd: by Leader's tide, A selcouth sight they see- As white as snow on Fairnalie. Beneath the moon with gesture proud They stately move and slow; To Learmont's tower a message sped, First he woxe pale, and then woxe red! Never a word he spake but three;— 'My sand is run; my thread is spun; This sign regardeth me.' The elfin harp his neck around, In minstrel guise, he hung; And on the wind in doleful sound Its dying accents rung. Then forth he went; yet turn'd him oft On the grey tower in lustre soft And Leader's waves like silver sheen 'Farewell, my fathers' ancient tower! 'To Learmont's name no foot of earth Shall here again belong, And on thy hospitable hearth The hare shall leave her young. The hart and hind approach'd the place, Lord Douglas leap'd on his berrybrown steed, And spurr'd him the Leader o'er; But, though he rode with lightning speed, He never saw them more. Some said to hill, and some to glen, Their wondrous course had been; But ne'er in haunts of living men Again was Thomas seen. |