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1893
THE KING has called for priest and cup, | |
| The King has taken spur and blade | |
| To dub True Thomas a belted knight, | |
| And all for the sake o’ the songs he made. | |
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| They have sought him high, they have sought him low, | 5 |
| They have sought him over down and lea. | |
| They have found him by the milk-white thorn | |
| That guards the gates o’ Faerie. | |
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| ’Twas bent beneath and blue above, | |
| Their eyes were held that they might not see | 10 |
| The kine that grazed beneath the knowes, | |
| Oh, they were the Queens o’ Faerie! | |
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| “Now cease your song,” the King he said, | |
| “Oh, cease your song and get you dight | |
| “To vow your vow and watch your arms, | 15 |
| “For I will dub you a belted knight. | |
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| “For I will give you a horse o’ pride, | |
| “Wi’ blazon and spur and page and squire; | |
| “Wi’ keep and tail and seizin and law, | |
| “And land to hold at your desire.” | 20 |
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| True Thomas smiled above his harp, | |
| And turned his face to the naked sky, | |
| Where, blown before the wastrel wind | |
| The thistle-down she floated by. | |
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| “I ha’ vowed my vow in another place, | 25 |
| “And bitter oath it was on me. | |
| “I ha’ watched my arms the lee-long night, | |
| “Where five-score fighting men would flee. | |
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| “My lance is tipped o’ the hammered flame, | |
| “My shield is beat o’ the moonlight cold; | 30 |
| “And I won my spurs in the Middle World, | |
| “A thousand fathom beneath the mould. | |
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| “And what should I make wi’ a horse o’ pride, | |
| “And what should I make wi’ a sword so brown, | |
| “But spill the rings o’ the Gentle Folk | 35 |
| “And flyte my kin in the Fairy Town? | |
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| “And what should I make wi’ blazon and belt, | |
| “Wi’ keep and tail and seizin and fee, | |
| “And what should I do wi’ page and squire | |
| “That am a king in my own countrie? | 40 |
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| “For I send east and I send west, | |
| “And I send far as my will may flee, | |
| “By dawn and dusk and the drinking rain, | |
| “And syne my Sendings return to me. | |
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| “They come wi’ news of the groanin’ earth, | 45 |
| “They come wi’ news o’ the roarin’ sea, | |
| “Wi’ word of Spirit and Ghost and Flesh, | |
| “And man, that’s mazed among the three.” | |
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| The King he bit his nether lip, | |
| And smote his hand upon his knee: | 50 |
| “By the faith o’ my soul, True Thomas,” he said, | |
| “Ye waste no wit in courtesie! | |
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| “As I desire, unto my pride, | |
| “Can I make Earls by three and three, | |
| “To run before and ride behind | 55 |
| “And serve the sons o’ my body.” | |
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| “And what care I for your row-foot earls, | |
| “Or all the sons o’ your body? | |
| “Before they win to the Pride o’ Name, | |
| “I trow they all ask leave o’ me. | 60 |
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| “For I make Honour wi’ muckle mouth, | |
| “As I make Shame wi’ mincin’ feet, | |
| “To sing wi’ the priests at the market-cross, | |
| “Or run wi’ the dogs in the naked street. | |
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| “And some they give me the good red gold, | 65 |
| “And some they give me the white money, | |
| “And some they give me a clout o’ meal, | |
| “For they be people of low degree. | |
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| “And the song I sing for the counted gold | |
| “The same I sing for the white money, | 70 |
| “But best I sing for the clout o’ meal | |
| “That simple people given me.” | |
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| The King cast down a silver groat, | |
| A silver groat o’ Scots money, | |
| “If I come wi’ a poor man’s dole,” he said, | 75 |
| “True Thomas, will ye harp to me?” | |
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| “Whenas I harp to the children small, | |
| “They press me close on either hand. | |
| “And who are you,” True Thomas said, | |
| “That you should ride while they must stand? | 80 |
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| “Light down, light down from your horse o’ pride, | |
| “I trow ye talk too loud and hie, | |
| “And I will make you a triple word, | |
| “And syne, if ye dare, ye shall ’noble me.” | |
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| He has lighted down from his horse o’ pride, | 85 |
| And set his back against the stone. | |
| “Now guard you well,” True Thomas said, | |
| “Ere I rax your heart from your breast-bone!” | |
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| True Thomas played upon his harp, | |
| The fairy harp that couldna lee, | 90 |
| And the first least word the proud King heard, | |
| It harpit the salt tear out o’ his e’e. | |
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| “Oh, I see the love that I lost long syne, | |
| “I touch the hope that I may not see, | |
| “And all that I did of hidden shame, | 95 |
| “Like little snakes they hiss at me. | |
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| “The sun is lost at noon—at noon! | |
| “The dread o’ doom has grippit me. | |
| “True Thomas, hide me under your cloak, | |
| “God wot, I’m little fit to dee!” | 100 |
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| ’Twas bent beneath and blue above— | |
| ’Twas open field and running flood— | |
| Where, hot on heath and dyke and wall, | |
| The high sun warmed the adder’s brood. | |
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| “Lie down, lie down,” True Thomas said. | 105 |
| “The God shall judge when all is done, | |
| “But I will bring you a better word | |
| “And lift the cloud that I laid on.” | |
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| True Thomas played upon his harp, | |
| That birled and brattled to his hand, | 110 |
| And the next least word True Thomas made, | |
| It garred the King take horse and brand. | |
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| “Oh, I hear the tread o’ the fighting-men, | |
| “I see the sun on splent and spear. | |
| “I mark the arrow outen the fern | 115 |
| “That flies so low and sings so clear! | |
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| “Advance my standards to that war, | |
| “And bid my good knights prick and ride; | |
| “The gled shall watch as fierce a fight | |
| “As e’er was fought on the Border side!” | 120 |
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| ’Twas bent beneath and blue above, | |
| ’Twas nodding grass and naked sky, | |
| Where, ringing up the wastrel wind, | |
| The eyass stooped upon the pye. | |
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| True Thomas sighed above his harp, | 125 |
| And turned the song on the midmost string; | |
| And the last least word True Thomas made, | |
| He harpit his dead youth back to the King. | |
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| “Now I am prince, and I do well | |
| “To love my love withouten fear; | 130 |
| “To walk with man in fellowship, | |
| “And breathe my horse behind the deer. | |
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| “My hounds they bay unto the death, | |
| “The buck has couched beyond the burn, | |
| “My love she waits at her window | 135 |
| “To wash my hands when I return. | |
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| “For that I live am I content | |
| “(Oh! I have seen my true love’s eyes) | |
| “To stand wi’ Adam in Eden-glade, | |
| “And run in the woods o’ Paradise!” | 140 |
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| ’Twas naked sky and nodding grass, | |
| ’Twas running flood and wastrel wind, | |
| Where, checked against the open pass, | |
| The red deer turned to wait the hind. | |
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| True Thomas laid his harp away, | 145 |
| And louted low at the saddle-side; | |
| He has taken stirrup and hauden rein, | |
| And set the King on his horse o’ pride. | |
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| “Sleep ye or wake,” True Thomas said, | |
| “That sit so still, that muse so long? | 150 |
| “Sleep ye or wake?—till the Latter Sleep | |
| “I trow ye’ll not forget my song. | |
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| “I ha’ harpit a shadow out o’ the sun | |
| “To stand before your face and cry; | |
| “I ha’ armed the earth beneath your heel, | 155 |
| “And over your head I ha’ dusked the sky. | |
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| “I ha’ harpit ye up to the Throne o’ God, | |
| “I ha’ harpit your midmost soul in three; | |
| “I ha’ harpit ye down to the Hinges o’ Hell, | |
| “And—ye—would—make—a Knight o’ me!” | 160 |
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