GOOD COUNSAIL.

truth

uncertainty wealth, blind desire, benefit counsel

each

fortune

nail

earthen pitcher

judge

FLY fro the presse, and dwell with sothfastnesse,
Suffise unto thy good though it be small,
For horde hath hate, and climbing tikelnesse,
Prease hath envy, and wele is blent over all,
Savour no more than thee behové shall,
Rede well thy selfe that other folk canst rede,
And trouth thee shall deliver, it is no drede.
Peiné thee not ech crooked to redresse,
In trust of her that tourneth as a ball;
Great rest standèth in little businesse,
Beware also to spurne againe a nall,
Strive not as doth a crocké with a wall,
Demé thy selfe that demest others' dede,
And trouth thee shall deliver, it is no drede.
That thee is sent receive in buxomnesse,
The wrastling of this world asketh a fall,
Here is no home, here is but wildernesse,
Forth, pilgrime! forth, beast, out of thy stall!
Looke up on high, and thanké God of all!
Weivé thy lusts, and let thy ghost thee lede,
And trouth thee shall deliver, it is no drede.

Thomas the Rhymer.

humility

forsake, spiri

About 1300.

THOMAS OF ERCILDOUNE, commonly called Thomas the Rhymer, lived about the year 1300, and was born at his father's patrimonial estate of Ercildoune or Earlston, now a small village in Scotland. Few personages are more renowned than he in tradition, having been, shortly after his death, placed in the highest position both as a poet and a prophet. The popular tale bears "that he was carried away to Fairyland at an early age, where he acquired the knowledge and gifts which made him so famous. After seven years' residence there he was permitted to return to earth, and astonish his countrymen by his powers and prophecies. After some time, while making merry in his Tower of Ercildoune, a person came running in and told him that a hart and hind were slowly parading the street of the village; Thomas rose, and left his house, and followed the animals to the forest, whence he never returned."

INCIPIT PROPHESIA THOME DE ERSELDOUN.

In a lande as I was lent,
In the gryking of the day

lying peeping

Alas, he seyd, ful wo is me,

I trow my dedes will werke me care,
Jesu, my sole tak to ye,

Whedir so euyr my body sal fare.
She rode furth with all her mizt,
Undir nethe the derne lee,

It was as derke as at midnizt,
And euyr in water unto the kne;
Through the space of days thre,
He herde but swowyng of a flode;
Thomas sayd, Ful wo is me,
Now I spyll for fawte of fode;
To a garden she lede him tyte,
There was fruyte in grete piente,
Peyres and appless ther wer rype,
The date and the damese,

The figge and als fylbert tre;

The nyghtyngale bredyng in her neste,
The papigaye about gan fle,

The throstylcock sang wald hafe no rest.
He pressed to pulle fruyt with his hand,
As man for faute that was faynt;
She sayd, Thomas, lat al stand,
Or els the deuyl wil the ataynt.
Sche seyd, Thomas, I thee hyzt,
To lay thy hede upon my kne,
And thou shalt see fayrer syght,
Than euyr sawe man in their kintre.
Sees thou, Thomas, yon fayr way,

That lyggs ouyr yone fayr playn ?

might

below ground

ever

dashing

faint, want

soon

want

haste

lies

Whan synful sawles haf derayed their payne. suffered

Yonder is the way to heuyn for ay,

Sees thou, Thomas, yon secund way

That lygges lawe undir the ryse?

Streight is the way, sothly to say,

To the joyes of paradyce.

rising

Sees thou, Thomas, yon thyrd way,

That lygges ouyr yon how?

Wide is the way, sothly to say,

To the brynyng fyres of helle.

Sees thou, Thomas, yone fair castell,
That standes ouyr yone fair hill?

Of town and tower it beereth the belle.

hollow

In middell erth is none like theretill.
When thou comyst in yone castell gaye,
I pray thee curteis man to be;
What so any man to you say,
Loke thu answer none but me.
My lord is servyd at yche messe,
With xxx kniztes feir and fre;
I shall say syttyng on the dese,
I toke thy speche beyone the le.
Thomas stode as still as stone,
And behelde that ladye gaye;

courteous

each

knights

dais

Than was sche fayr, and ryche anone,

And also ryal on hir palfreye.

royal

The grewhoundes had fylde thaim on the dere, deer

The raches coupled, by my fay,

dogs

She blewe her horne Thomas to chere

All that leue long day.

Knyghtes dansyd by two and thre,

Ladyes that were gret of gre,

Sat and sang of rych aray.

Thomas sawe much more in that place,

Than I can descryve,

Til on a day, alas, alas,

My lovelye layde sayd to me,

Busk ye, Thomas, you must agayn,

Here you may no longer be:

Hy then zerne that you were at hame,

I sal ye bryng to Eldyn Tre

Thomas answered with heuy

And said, Lowely ladye, lat ma be,
For I say ye certenly here

Haf I be bot the space of dayes three.

Jow

fiddle

amidst

haste