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,
Where, 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,
I ha' watched my arms the lee-long night,
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,
By dawn and dusk and the drinking rain,
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 I for your row-foot earls,
Or all the sons o' your body?
Before they win to the Pride o' Name,
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?"
"Whenas I harp to the children small,
They press me close on either hand:
And who are you," True Thomas said,
"That you should ride while they must stand?
"Light down, light down from your horse o' pride,
I trow ye talk too loud and hie,
And I will make you a triple word,
And syne, if ye dare, ye shall 'noble me."
He has lighted down from his horse o' pride,
And set his back against the stone.
"Now guard you well," True Thomas said,
"Ere I rax your heart from your breast-bone!"
True Thomas played upon his harp,
The fairy harp that couldna' lee,
And the first least word the proud King heard,
It harpit the salt tear out o' his ee.
"Oh, I see the love that I lost long syne,
I touch the hope that I may not see,
And all that I did o' hidden shame,
Like little snakes they hiss at me.
"The sun is lost at noon — at noon!
The dread o' doom has grippit me.
True Thomas, hide me under your cloak,
God wot, I'm little fit to dee!"
'Twas bent beneath and blue above —
'Twas open field and running flood —
Where, hot on heath and dyke and wall,
The high sun warmed the adder's brood.
"Lie down, lie down," True Thomas said.
"The God shall judge when all is done;
But I will bring you a better word
And lift the cloud that I laid on."
True Thomas played upon his harp,
That birled and brattled to his hand,
And the next least word True Thomas made,
It garred the King take horse and brand.
"Oh, I hear the tread o' the fighting-men,
I see the sun on splent and spear!
I mark the arrow outen the fern!
That flies so low and sings so clear!
"Advance my standards to that war,
And bid my good knights prick and ride;
The gled shall watch as fierce a fight
As e'er was fought on the Border side!"
'Twas bent beneath and blue above,
'Twas nodding grass and naked sky,
Where ringing up the wastrel wind
The eyass stooped upon the pye.
True Thomas sighed above his harp,
And turned the song on the midmost string;
And the last least word True Thomas made
He harpit his dead youth back to the King.
"Now I am prince, and I do well
To love my love withouten fear;
To walk wi' man in fellowship,
And breathe my horse behind the deer.
"My hounds they bay unto the death,
The buck has couched beyond the burn,
My love she waits at her window
To wash my hands when I return.
"For that I live am I content
(Oh! I have seen my true love's eyes!)
To stand wi' Adam in Eden-glade,
And run in the woods o' Paradise!"
'Twas nodding grass and naked sky,
'Twas blue above and bent below,
Where, checked against the wastrel wind,
The red deer belled to call the doe.
True Thomas laid his harp away,
And louted low at the saddle-side;
He has taken stirrup and hauden rein,
And set the King on his horse o' pride.
"Sleep ye or wake," True Thomas said,
"That sit so still, that muse so long;
Sleep ye or wake? — till the latter sleep
I trow ye'll not forget my song.
"I ha' harpit a shadow out o' the sun
To stand before your face and cry;
I ha' armed the earth beneath your heel,
And over your head I ha' dusked the sky!
"I ha' harpit ye up to the Throne o' God,
I ha' harpit your secret soul in three;
I ha' harpit ye down to the Hinges o' Hell,
And — ye — would — make — a Knight o' me!"
Poem Analysis:
In The Last Rhyme of True Thomas, Rudyard Kipling explores the conflict between artistic freedom and worldly power through the legendary figure of True Thomas, a poet and harpist who possesses supernatural knowledge and extraordinary creative abilities. By presenting a confrontation between the King and the poet, Kipling examines the value of art, the limitations of political authority, and the deeper truths that poetry can reveal about human existence.
The central conflict begins when the King offers to make True Thomas a knight in recognition of his songs. The reward includes wealth, land, military honours, and social status. However, Thomas refuses the offer because he has already devoted himself to a different kind of service. His declaration, "That am a king in my own countrie," expresses his independence and suggests that artistic achievement provides a form of authority greater than conventional titles. Through this contrast, Kipling questions whether material rewards and social recognition can truly measure a person's worth.
Thomas's power is most clearly demonstrated through his music. When the King challenges him, the poet plays three different melodies, each revealing a hidden dimension of the King's inner life. The first brings back painful memories and feelings of guilt, the second awakens his desire for battle and military glory, and the third restores the innocence and happiness of his youth. These three experiences represent important aspects of human nature: regret, ambition, and nostalgia. The harp therefore becomes a symbol of artistic power, capable of exposing emotions and truths that political authority cannot control.
Another significant theme is the relationship between art and ordinary people. Thomas explains that he sings for rich and poor alike, receiving gold from some and simple food from others. Yet he values the humble offering most because it comes from ordinary people. His attitude suggests that genuine art should not depend on wealth, status, or social privilege. Instead, its true value lies in its ability to communicate with people from every level of society. This idea becomes especially evident when Thomas questions why the King should ride while children must stand to listen to his music.
Kipling also uses supernatural imagery and references to Faerie to create an atmosphere of mystery. The milk-white thorn, the Fairy Queens, and the enchanted harp connect the ordinary world with an unseen spiritual dimension. Thomas appears to belong to both worlds, suggesting that the artist possesses a special ability to perceive realities beyond everyday human experience. His music allows the King to confront not only his personal memories but also the moral and spiritual consequences of his actions.
The poem's final irony is particularly powerful. After experiencing the extraordinary influence of Thomas's music, the King is returned to his horse, while the poet remains independent. The King's original intention was to honour Thomas by making him a knight, but he discovers that the poet possesses a power that cannot be granted or taken away by royal authority. The closing lines, in which Thomas declares that he has played the King through Heaven, his secret soul, and Hell, reinforce the superiority of artistic insight over political status.
The Last Rhyme of True Thomas is more than a poem about a legendary musician refusing royal honours. It is a celebration of artistic independence, imagination, and the ability of poetry to reveal the deepest aspects of human nature. Through the contrast between the King and True Thomas, Kipling suggests that true greatness does not necessarily come from wealth, rank, or political power. Rather, it comes from possessing an independent spirit and the ability to touch the human soul through art.
