« AnteriorContinuar »
Flung for gift on Taupo's face
Sign that spring is come-
And I'll give you back your home!
pineBell-bird in the leafy deep where the ratas
twineFern above the saddle-bow, flax upon the plainTake the flower and turn the hour, and kiss your
Buy my English posies!
Ye that have your own
Floods his heart abrim-
Oh, she calls his dead to him!
landMasters of the Seven Seas, oh, love and under
THE LAST RHYME OF TRUE THOMAS.
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.
They have sought him high, they have sought
him low, They have sought him over down and lea; They have found him by the milk-white thorn
That guards the gates o' Faerie.
'Twas bent beneath and blue above,
Their eyes were held that they might not see The kine that grazed between the knowes,
Oh, they were the Queens o' Faerie !
“Now cease your song," the King he said,
“Oh, cease your song and get you dight To vow your vow and watch your arms, For I will dub you a belted knight.
“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."
True Thomas smiled above his harp,
And turned his face to the naked sky, Wherè, blown before the wastrel wind,
The thistle-down she floated by.
“I ha' vowed my vow in another place,
And bitter oath it was on me,
Where five-score fighting-men would flee.
“My lance is tipped o' the hammered flame,
My shield is beat o' the moonlight cold; And I won my spurs in the Middle World,
A thousand fathoms beneath the mould.
“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
And flyte my kin in the Fairy Town?
“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 ?
“For I send east and I send west,
And I send far as my will may flee,
And syne my Sendings return to me.
“They come wi' news of the groanin' earth,
They come wi' news o'the roarin' sea, Wi' word of Spirit and Ghost and Flesh,
And man that's mazed among the three.”
The King he bit his nether lip,
And smote his hand upon his knee: “By the faith o' my soul, True Thomas,” he said,
“Ye waste no wit in courtesie!
“ As I desire, unto my pride,
Can I make Earls by three and three, To run before and ride behind
And serve the sons o' my body."
“And what care l for your row-foot earls,
Or all the sons o' your body ?
I trow they all ask leave o' me.
“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.
"And some they give me the good red gold,
And some they give me the white money, And some they give me a clout o' meal,
For they be people o' low degree.
“And the song I sing for the counted gold
The same I sing for the white money, But best I sing for the clout o' meal
That simple people given me.”
The King cast down a silver groat,
A silver groat o' Scots money, “If I come with a poor man's dole," he said,
“True Thomas, will ye harp to me?"