Öriné Nagy Cecília (szerk.): A gödöllői szőnyeg 100 éve - Tanulmányok a 20. századi magyar textilművészet történetéhez (Gödöllő, 2009)

Benkó Zsuzsanna: A hagyomány fonala- A Cennini Társaság és a Céhbeliek kiállításain szereplő kárpitok

A hagyomány fonala — A Cennitii Társaság és a Céhbeliek kiállításain szereplő kárpitok 63 Tom the Rhymer, 14. századi skót ballada True Thomas lay on Hiintlie bank; A ferlie he spied wi' his e'e; And there he saw a lady bright Come riding down by the Eildon Tree. Her skirt was o' the grass-green silk, Her mantle o' the velvet fine; At ilka tett of her horse's mane Hung fifty sil'er bells and nine. 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 inquire. And see ye not that braid, braid road, That lies across that lily leven? That is the path of wickedness, Though some call it the road to heaven. True Thomas he pulled off his cap And louted low down to his knee: All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven! For thy peer on earth I never did see. And see not ye that bonny road Ihat winds about the ferny brae? That is the road to fair Elfland, Where thou and I this night maun gae. 0 no, O no, Thomas, she said, That name does not belang to me; 1 am but the Queen of fair Elfland, That am hither come to visit thee. Harp and carp, dhomas, she said, Harp and carp along wi' me; And if ye dare to kiss my lips, Sure of your body I will be. Betide me weal, betide me woe, That weird shall never daunten me. Syne he has kissed her rosy lips, All underneath the Eildon Tree. But Ihomas, ye maun hold your tongue, Whatever ye may hear or see; For if you speak word in Elfenland, Ye'll ne'er get back to your ain country. O they rade on and farther on, And they waded through rivers aboon the knee, And they saw neither sun nor moon, But they heard the roaring of the sea. It was mirk, mirk night, and there was nae stern-light, And they waded through red blude to the knee, For a the blude that's shed on earth Rins through the springs o' that country. Now, ye maun go wi' me, she said, True Ihomas, ye maun go wi' me; And ye maun serve me seven years Through weal or woe, as may chance to be. Sine they came onto a garden green, And she pulled an apple frae a tree. Take this for thy wages, True Thomas, It will give thee the tongue that never can lee. She mounted on her milk-white steed; She's ta'en True Thomas up behind; And ay, whene'er her bridle rung, The steel flew swifter than the wind. O they rade on, and further on; Idle steed gaed swifter than the wind, Until they reached a desert wide, And living land was left behind. My tongue is mine ain, True Ihomas said; A gudely gift ye wad gi'e to me! I neither dought to buy nor sell A fair or tryst where I may be. I dought neither speak to prince or peer, Nor ask of grace frae fair lady. Now hold thy peace, the lady said, For as I say, so must it be. Light down, light down now, True Thomas, And lean your head upon my knee. Abide and rest a little space, And I will show you ferlies three. He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, And a pair of shoes of velvet green; And till seven years were gane and past, True Ihomas on earth was never seen.