Bjergtaget

 

  
 True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank,  
A marvel with his eye spied he.  
There he saw a lady bright  
Come riding by the Eildon Tree.  
  
Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,  
Her mantle of the velvet fine,  
At every lock of her horse's mane  
Hung fifty silver bells and nine.  
  
True Thomas he pulled off his cap  
And bowed down to his knee:  
"All hail, thou Queen of Heaven!  
For thy peer on earth I never did see."  
  
"O no, O no, Thomas," she said,  
"That name does not belong to me;  
I am but the queen of fair Elfland  
That am hither come to visit thee."  
  
"Sing and play, Thomas," she said  
"Sing and play along with me,  
And if ye dare to kiss my lips,  
Sure of your body I will be."  
  
"Betide me weal, betide me woe,  
That fate shall never frighten me."  
And he has kissed her rosy lips,  
All under the Eildon Tree.  
  
"Now ye must go with me," she said,  
"True Thomas, ye must go with me,  
And ye must serve me seven years,  
Through weal and woe, as chance may be."  
  
She mounted on her milk-white steed,  
She's taken True Thomas up behind,  
And every time her bridle rung  
The steed flew faster than the wind.  
  
O they rode on, and farther on,  
The steed went swifter than the wind;  
Until they reached a desert wide,  
And living land was left behind.  
  
   
	  
  
"Lie down, lie down now, True Thomas,  
And rest your head upon my knee;  
Abide and rest a little space,  
And I will show you wonders three."  
  
"O see ye not yon narrow road,  
So thick beset with thorns and briars?  
That is the path of righteousness,  
Though after it but few enquire."  
  
"And see ye not that broad, broad road  
That lies across the lily leven?  
That is the path of wickedness,  
Though some call it the road to heaven."  
  
"And see ye not that lovely road,  
That winds about the fern'd hillside?  
That is the road to fair Elfland,  
Where thou and I this night must ride."  
  
"But Thomas, you must hold your tongue,  
Whatever you might hear or see,  
For if you speak in fair Elfland,  
You'll never get back to your own country."  
  
Soon they came to a garden green,  
And she pulled an apple from a tree;  
"Take this for thy wages, True Thomas,  
It will give ye the tongue than can never lie."  
  
"My tongue is my own," True Thomas said,  
"A goodly gift ye would give to me!  
I'd neither dare to buy or sell,  
At fair or tryst where I may be."  
  
"I dare neither speak to prince or lord  
Or ask favor from fair lady -"  
"Now hold thy peace," the Lady said,  
"For as I say, so must it be!"  
  
He has gotten a coat of velvet cloth,  
And a pair of shoes of velvet green,  
And till seven years were gone and past  
True Thomas on earth was never seen.  
  
Anonymous (old English Ballad)  

Interessante er linjerne

 
O see ye not yon narrow road,  
So thick beset with thorns and briars?  
That is the path of righteousness,  
Though after it but few enquire. 
  
And see ye not that broad, broad road  
That lies across the lily leven?  
That is the path of wickedness,  
Though some call it the road to heaven. 
 
And see ye not that lovely road,  
That winds about the fern'd hillside?  
That is the road to fair Elfland,  
Where thou and I this night must ride. 

som i øvrigt blev citeret af Tolkien i hans essay "on Fairy-stories". Interessant, for hvad kan "that bonny road, that winds upon the ferny brae" være andet end en tilbagevenden til/rest af førkristen hedenskab (en tredje vej mellem verdslig egoisme og havesyge og de kristnes "righteousness), som tilsyneladende ligefrem advokeres af sangens forfatter tilbage i 13-1400-tallet, hvor sangen kan antages at stamme fra?

[ agger, Sat 21 May, :13:07: /digte] - kommentar(er) - link

Kommentarer: