Chapter IV: Introduction: 1 (4)

As I me went this endris[1] day,
Full fast in mind making my moan,
In a merry morning of May
By Huntlie banks myself alone,
I heard the jay and the throstle-cock; 5
The mavis meaned[2] her of her song;
The woodwale bered[3] as a bell,
That all the wood about me rong.
Alone in longing thus as I lay
Underneath a seemly tree, 10
Saw I where a lady gay
Came riding over a longe lea.
If I should sit to Doomesday
With my tongue to wrable and wry[4],
Certainly that lady gay 15
Never be she described for me!
Her palfrey was a dapple-gray,[5]
Swilk[6] one ne saw I never none;
As does the sun on summer's day,
That fair lady herself she shone. 20
Her saddle it was of roelle-bone[7];
Full seemly was that sight to see!
Stiffly set with precious stone
And compast all with crapotee[8]--
Stones of Orient great plenty; 25
Her hair about her head it hang;
She rode over that longe lea;
A while she blew, another she sang.
Her girths of noble silk they were;
The buckles were of beryl-stone; 30
Her stirrups were of crystal clear,
And all with pearl overbegone[9];
Her paytrell[10] was of iral-stone;
Her crupper was of orphare[11];
And as clear gold her bridle shone; 35
On either side hang belles three.
She led three grew-hounds in a leash,
And seven raches[12] by her they ran;
She bare an horn about her halse[13],
And under/her belt full many a flane[14]. 40
Thomas lay and saw that sight
Underneath a seemly tree.
He said "Yon is Mary most of might,[15]
That bare that child that died for me.
But-if[16] I speak with yon lady bright, 45
I hope my heart will break in three!
Now shall I go with all my might
Her for to meet at Eildon tree[17]."
Thomas rathely[18] up he rase,
And he ran over that mountain high; 50
If it be as the story says,
Her he met at Eildon tree.
He kneeled down upon his knee,
Underneath that greenwood spray,
And said "Lovely lady, rue on me, 55
Queen of heaven, as thou well may!"
Then spake that lady mild of thought,
"Thomas, let such wordes be;
Queen of heaven ne am I nought,
For I took never so high degree. 60
But I am of another country,
If I be 'parelled most of price;
I ride after these wilde fee[19];
My raches runnes at my device."
"If thou be 'parelled most of price, 65
And here rides thus in thy folly,
Of love, lady, as thou art wise,
Thou give me leave to lie thee by!"
She said "Thou man, that were folly;
I pray thee, Thomas, thou let me be; 70
For I say thee full sekerly[20],
That sin will fordo all my beauty,"
"Now, lovely lady, rue on me,
And I will evermore with thee dwell;
Here my troth I will plight to thee, 75
Whether thou wilt in heaven or hell."
"Man of mould, thou wilt me mar;
But yet thou shalt have all thy will;
And, trow it well, thou 'chievest the ware[21],
For all my beauty wilt thou spill." 80
Down then light that lady bright
Underneath that greenwood spray.
And, as the story tells full right,
Seven times by her he lay.
She said "Man, thee likes thy play; 85
What byrde[22] in bower may deal with thee?
Thou marrest me all this longe day;
I pray thee, Thomas, let me be!"
Thomas stood up in that stead[23],
And he beheld that lady gay; 90
Her hair it hang all over her head;
Her eyne were out, that ere were gray;
And all the rich clothing was away
That he before saw in that stead;
Her one shank black, her other gray, 95
And all her body like the lead.
Then said Thomas "Alas, alas!
In faith this is a duleful[24] sight;
How art thou faded thus in the face,
That shone before as the sun so bright!" 100
She said, "Thomas, take leave at sun and moon,
And also at leaf that grows on tree;
This twelvemonth shalt thou with me gone[25],
And Middle-earth[26] shalt thou none see."
He kneeled down upon his knee, 105
Underneath that greenwood spray,
And said "Lovely lady[27], rue on me,
Mild queen of heaven, as thou best may!
Alas!" he said, "and woe is me!
I trow my deeds will work me care; 110
My soul, Jesu, beteach[28] I thee,
Whithersoever my bones shall fare."
She led him in at Eildon hill
Underneath a derne[29] lea,
Where it was dark as midnight mirk, 115
And ever the water till his knee.
The mountenance[30] of dayes three
He heard but swoughing of the flood;
At the last he said "Full woe is me!
Almost I die for fault of food." 120
She led him intill a fair herbere[31]
Where fruit was growing great plenty;
Pear and apple, both ripe they were,
The date, and also the damasee,
The fig, and also the wine-berry; 125
The nightegales bigging[32] on their nest;
The papejoys[33] fast about gan fly,
And throstles sang, would have no rest.
He pressed to pull fruit with his hand,
As man for food that was near faint. 130
She said "Thomas, thou let them stand,[34]
Or else the fiend thee will attaint!
If thou it pluck, soothly to say,
Thy soul goes to the fire of hell;
It comes never out or Doomesday, 135
But there in pain aye for to dwell.
Thomas, soothly, I thee hight[35],
Come lay thy head down on my knee,
And thou shalt see the fairest sight
That ever saw man of thy country." 140
He did in hight[36] as she him bade;
Upon her knee his head he laid,
For her to pay[37] he was full glad,
And then that lady to him said:
"Seest thou[38] now yon fair[39] way, 145
That lieth over yon high mountain?
Yon is the way to heaven for aye
When sinful souls are past their pain.
Seest thou now yon other way,
That lieth low beneath yon rise[40]? 150
Yon is the way, thee sooth to say,
Unto the joy of Paradise.
Seest thou yet yon thirde way,
That lieth under yon greene plain?
Yon is the way, with teen and tray[41], 155
Where sinful soules suffer their pain.
But seest thou now yon fourthe way,
That lieth over yon deepe dell?
Yon is the way, so wellaway!
Unto the burning fire of hell. 160
Seest thou yet yon fair castel,
That standeth over yon highe hill?
Of town and tower it bears the bell,
In earth is none like it untill.
For sooth, Thomas, yon is mine own, 165
And the king's of this country;
But me were lever[42] be hanged and drawn
Or that[43] he wist thou lay me by.
When thou com'st to yon castle gay,
I pray thee courteous man to be, 170
And whatso any man to thee say,
Look thou answer none but me.
My lord is served at each mess
With thirty knightes fair and free;
I shall say, sitting at the dess[44], 175
I took thy speech beyond the sea."
Thomas still as stone he stood,
And he beheld that lady gay;
She came again as fair and good
And also rich on her palfrey. 180
Her grewhounds filled with deer-blood;
Her raches coupled, by my fay;
She blew her horn with main and mood[45];
Unto the castle she took the way.
Into the hall soothly she went; 185
Thomas followed at her hand;
Then ladies came, both fair and gent,
With courtesy to her kneeland[46].
Harp and fithel both they fand[47],
Gittern and also the sawtery[48], 190
Lute and ribib[49] both gangand[50],
And all manner of minstrelsy.
The most marvel that Thomas thought,
When that he stood upon the floor,
For fifty hartes in were brought, 195
That were bothe great and store[51].
Raches lay lapping in the blood;
Cookes came with dressing-knife;
They brittened[52] them as they were wood;
Revel among them was full rife. 200
Knightes danced by three and three,
There was revel, gamen, and play;
Lovely ladies, fair and free,
That sat and sang on rich array.
Thomas dwelled in that solace 205
More than I you say, parde;
Till on a day, so have I grace,
My lovely lady said to me[53];
"Do busk thee, Thomas; thee buse[54] again;
For thou may here no longer be; 210
Hie thee fast with might and main;
I shall thee bring till Eildon tree."
Thomas said then with heavy cheer[55],
"Lovely lady, now let me be;
For certes, lady, I have been here 215
Nought but the space of dayes three!"
"For sooth, Thomas, as I thee tell,
Thou hast been here three year and more;
But longer here thou may not dwell;[56]
The skill[57] I shall thee tell wherefore. 220
To-morn[58], of hell the foule fiend
Among this folk will fetch his fee;
And thou art mickle man and hend[59],
I trow full well he would choose thee.
For all the gold that ever may be 225
From hethen[60] unto the worldes end,
Thou beest never betrayed for me;
Therefore with me I rede[61] thou wend."
She brought him again to Eildon tree,
Underneath that greenwood spray. 230
In Huntlie banks is merry to be,
Where fowles sing both night and day.[62]
"Farewell, Thomas, I wend my way,
For me buse[63] over the bentes brown."
--Lo, here a fytte; more is to say[64] 235
All of Thomas of Erceldoune.

* * * * *

REGINALD SCOT

DISCOVERY OF WITCHCRAFT (1584)

_From_ "To the Readers."

I should no more prevail herein [_i.e._ in securing attention] than if a hundred years since I should have entreated your predecessors to believe, that Robin Goodfellow, that great and ancient bull-beggar, had been but a cozening merchant and no devil indeed.... But Robin Goodfellow ceaseth now to be much feared, and popery is sufficiently discovered.