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diff --git a/2831.txt b/2831.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fafbce0 --- /dev/null +++ b/2831.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7701 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Bundle of Ballads, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Bundle of Ballads + +Author: Various + +Editor: Henry Morley + +Posting Date: December 8, 2008 [EBook #2831] +Release Date: September, 2001 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BUNDLE OF BALLADS *** + + + + +Produced by Les Bowler + + + + + +A BUNDLE OF BALLADS + +Edited By Henry Morley + + + + +CONTENTS. + + INTRODUCTION + CHEVY CHASE + CHEVY CHASE (the later version) + THE NUT-BROWN MAID + ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH, AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLIE + BINNORIE + KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR MAID + TAKE THY OLD CLOAK ABOUT THEE + WILLOW, WILLOW, WILLOW + THE LITTLE WEE MAN + THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE + EDWARD, EDWARD + ROBIN HOOD + KING EDWARD IV. AND THE TANNER OF TAMWORTH + SIR PATRICK SPENS + EDOM O' GORDON + THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD + THE BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BETHNAL GREEN + THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON + BARBARA ALLEN'S CRUELTY + SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST + THE BRAES O' YARROW + KEMP OWYNE + O'ER THE WATER TO CHARLIE + ADMIRAL HOSIER'S GHOST + JEMMY DAWSON + WILLIAM AND MARGARET + ELFINLAND WOOD + CASABIANCA + AULD ROBIN GRAY + GLOSSARY + + + + +INTRODUCTION BY THE EDITOR. + + +Recitation with dramatic energy by men whose business it was to travel +from one great house to another and delight the people by the way, +was usual among us from the first. The scop invented and the glee-man +recited heroic legends and other tales to our Anglo-Saxon forefathers. +These were followed by the minstrels and other tellers of tales written +for the people. They frequented fairs and merrymakings, spreading the +knowledge not only of tales in prose or ballad form, but of appeals also +to public sympathy from social reformers. + +As late as the year 1822, Allan Cunningham, in publishing a collection +of "Traditional Tales of the English and Scottish Peasantry," spoke from +his own recollection of itinerant story-tellers who were welcomed in the +houses of the peasantry and earned a living by their craft. + +The earliest story-telling was in recitative. When the old alliteration +passed on into rhyme, and the crowd or rustic fiddle took the place of +the old "gleebeam" for accentuation of the measure and the meaning of +the song, we come to the ballad-singer as Philip Sidney knew him. Sidney +said, in his "Defence of Poesy," that he never heard the old song of +Percy and Douglas, that he found not his heart moved more than with a +trumpet; and yet, he said, "it is sung but by some blind crowder, with +no rougher voice than rude style; which being so evil apparelled in the +dust and cobweb of that uncivil age, what would it work trimmed in the +gorgeous eloquence of Pindar?" Many an old ballad, instinct with natural +feeling, has been more or less corrupted, by bad ear or memory, among +the people upon whose lips it has lived. It is to be considered, +however, that the old broader pronunciation of some letters developed +some syllables and the swiftness of speech slurred over others, +which will account for many an apparent halt in the music of what was +actually, on the lips of the ballad-singer, a good metrical line. + +"Chevy Chase" is, most likely, a corruption of the French word +chevauchee, which meant a dash over the border for destruction and +plunder within the English pale. Chevauchee was the French equivalent +to the Scottish border raid. Close relations between France and Scotland +arose out of their common interest in checking movements towards their +conquest by the kings of England, and many French words were used with a +homely turn in Scottish common speech. Even that national source of joy, +"great chieftain of the pudding-race," the haggis, has its name from +the French hachis. At the end of the old ballad of "Chevy Chase," which +reads the corrupted word into a new sense, as the Hunting on the Cheviot +Hills, there is an identifying of the Hunting of the Cheviot with the +Battle of Otterburn:-- + + "Old men that knowen the ground well enough call it the Battle of + Otterburn. + At Otterburn began this spurn upon a Monenday; + There was the doughty Douglas slain, the Percy never went away." + +The Battle of Otterburn was fought on the 19th of August 1388. The +Scots were to muster at Jedburgh for a raid into England. The Earl +of Northumberland and his sons, learning the strength of the Scottish +gathering, resolved not to oppose it, but to make a counter raid into +Scotland. The Scots heard of this and divided their force. The +main body, under Archibald Douglas and others, rode for Carlisle. +A detachment of three or four hundred men-at-arms and two thousand +combatants, partly archers, rode for Newcastle and Durham, with James +Earl of Douglas for one of their leaders. These were already pillaging +and burning in Durham when the Earl of Northumberland first heard +of them, and sent against them his sons Henry and Ralph Percy. In a +hand-to-hand fight between Douglas and Henry Percy, Douglas took Percy's +pennon. At Otterburn the Scots overcame the English but Douglas fell, +struck by three spears at once, and Henry was captured in fight by Lord +Montgomery. There was a Scots ballad on the Battle of Otterburn quoted +in 1549 in a book--"The Complaynt of Scotland"--that also referred +to the Hunttis of Chevet. The older version of "Chevy Chase" is in an +Ashmole MS. in the Bodleian, from which it was first printed in 1719 by +Thomas Hearne in his edition of William of Newbury's History. Its author +turns the tables on the Scots with the suggestion of the comparative +wealth of England and Scotland in men of the stamp of Douglas and Percy. +The later version, which was once known more widely, is probably not +older than the time of James I., and is the version praised by Addison +in Nos. 70 and 74 of "The Spectator." + +"The Nut-Brown Maid," in which we can hardly doubt that a woman pleads +for women, was first printed in 1502 in Richard Arnold's Chronicle. +Nut-brown was the old word for brunette. There was an old saying that "a +nut-brown girl is neat and blithe by nature." + +"Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough, and William of Cloudeslie" was first +printed by Copland about 1550. A fragment has been found of an earlier +impression. Laneham, in 1575, in his Kenilworth Letter, included "Adam +Bell, Clym of the Clough, and William of Cloudeslie" among the light +reading of Captain Cox. In the books of the Stationers' Company (for +the printing and editing of which we are deeply indebted to Professor +Arber), there is an entry between July 1557 and July 1558, "To John +kynge to prynte this boke Called Adam Bell etc. and for his lycense +he giveth to the howse." On the 15th of January 1581-2 "Adam Bell" is +included in a list of forty or more copyrights transferred from +Sampson Awdeley to John Charlewood; "A Hundred Merry Tales" and Gower's +"Confessio Amantis" being among the other transfers. On the 16th of +August 1586 the Company of Stationers "Alowed vnto Edward white for his +copies these fyve ballades so that they be tollerable:" four only are +named, one being "A ballad of William Clowdisley, never printed before." +Drayton wrote in the "Shepheard's Garland" in 1593:-- + + "Come sit we down under this hawthorn tree, + The morrow's light shall lend us day enough-- + And tell a tale of Gawain or Sir Guy, + Of Robin Hood, or of good Clem of the Clough." + +Ben Jonson, in his "Alchemist," acted in 1610, also indicates the +current popularity of this tale, when Face, the housekeeper, brings +Dapper, the lawyer's clerk, to Subtle, and recommends him with-- + + "'slight, I bring you + No cheating Clim o' the Clough or Claribel." + +"Binnorie," or "The Two Sisters," is a ballad on an old theme popular in +Scandinavia as well as in this country. There have been many versions of +it. Dr. Rimbault published it from a broadside dated 1656. The version +here given is Sir Walter Scott's, from his "Minstrelsy of the Scottish +Border," with a few touches from other versions given in Professor +Francis James Child's noble edition of "The English and Scottish Popular +Ballads," which, when complete, will be the chief storehouse of our +ballad lore. + +"King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid" is referred to by Shakespeare in +"Love's Labour's Lost," Act iv. sc I; in "Romeo and Juliet," Act ii. sc. +I; and in "II. Henry IV.," Act iii. sc. 4. It was first printed in 1612 +in Richard Johnson's "Crown Garland of Goulden Roses gathered out of +England's Royall Garden. Being the Lives and Strange Fortunes of many +Great Personages of this Land, set forth in many pleasant new Songs and +Sonnets never before imprinted." + +"Take thy Old Cloak about thee," was published in 1719 by Allan Ramsay +in his "Tea-Table Miscellany," and was probably a sixteenth century +piece retouched by him. Iago sings the last stanza but one--"King +Stephen was a worthy peer," etc.--in "Othello," Act ii. sc. 3. + +In "Othello," Act iv. sc. 3, there is also reference to the old ballad +of "Willow, willow, willow." + +"The Little Wee Man" is a wee ballad that is found in many forms with a +little variation. It improves what was best in the opening of a longer +piece which introduced popular prophecies, and is to be found in Cotton +MS. Julius A. v. It was printed by Thomas Wright in his edition of +Langtoft's Chronicle (ii. 452). + +"The Spanish Lady's Love" was printed by Thomas Deloney in "The Garland +of Goodwill," published in the latter half of the sixteenth century. The +hero of this ballad was probably one of Essex's companions in the +Cadiz expedition, and various attempts have been made to identify him, +especially with a Sir John Bolle of Thorpe Hall, Lincolnshire. + +"Edward, Edward," is from Percy's "Reliques." Percy had it from Lord +Hailes. + +"Robin Hood" is the "Lytell Geste of Robyn Hood," printed in London by +Wynken de Worde, and again in Edinburgh by Chepman and Myllar in 1508, +in the first year of the establishment of a printing-press in Scotland. + +"King Edward IV. and the Tanner of Tamworth" is a ballad of a kind once +popular; there were "King Alfred and the Neatherd," "King Henry and +the Miller," "King James I. and the Tinker," "King Henry VII. and +the Cobbler," with a dozen more. "The Tanner of Tamworth" in another, +perhaps older, form, as "The King and the Barker," was printed by Joseph +Ritson in his "Ancient Popular Poetry." + +"Sir Patrick Spens" was first published by Percy in his "Reliques of +Ancient English Poetry" (1757). It was given by Sir Walter Scott in his +"Minstrelsy of the Border," and with more detail by Peter Buchan in +his "Ancient Ballads of the North." Buchan took it from an old blind +ballad-singer who had recited it for fifty years, and learnt it in +youth from another very old man. The ballad is upon an event in Scottish +history of the thirteenth century, touching marriage of a Margaret, +daughter of the King of Scotland, to Haningo, son of the King of Norway. +The perils of a winter sea-passage in ships of the olden time were +recognised by an Act of the reign of James III. of Scotland, prohibiting +all navigation "frae the feast of St. Simon's Day and Jude unto the +feast of the Purification of our Lady, called Candlemas." + +"Edom o' Gordon" was first printed at Glasgow by Robert and Andrew +Foulis in 1755. Percy ascribed its preservation to Sir David Dalrymple, +who gave it from the memory of a lady. The incident was transferred +to the border from the North of Scotland. Edom o' Gordon was Sir Adam +Gordon of Auchindown, Lieutenant-Depute for Queen Mary in the North in +1571. He sent Captain Ker with soldiers against the Castle of Towie, +which was set on fire, and the Lady of Towie, with twenty-six other +persons, "was cruelly brint to the death." Other forms of the ballad +ascribe the deed, with incidents of greater cruelty, to Captain Carr, +the Lord of Estertowne. + +"The Children in the Wood" was entered in the books of the Stationers' +Company on the 15th of October 1595 to Thomas Millington as, "for his +Copie vnder th[e h]andes of bothe the wardens a ballad intituled, The +Norfolk gent his will and Testament and how he Commytted the keepinge of +his Children to his owne brother whoe delte moste wickedly with them and +howe God plagued him for it." It was printed as a black-letter ballad in +1670. Addison wrote a paper on it in "The Spectator" (No. 85), praising +it as "one of the darling songs of the common people." + +"The Blind Beggar of Bednall Green" is in many collections, and was +known in Elizabeth's time, another Elizabethan ballad having been set +to the tune of it. "This very house," wrote Samuel Pepys in June 1663 +of Sir William Rider's house at Bethnal Green, "was built by the blind +beggar of Bednall Green, so much talked of and sung in ballads; but they +say it was only some outhouses of it." The Angels that abounded in the +Beggar's stores were gold coins, so named from the figure on one side of +the Archangel Michael overcoming the Dragon. This coin was first struck +in 1466, and it was used until the time of Charles the First. + +"The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington," or "True Love Requited," is a +ballad in Pepys's collection, now in the Bodleian. The Islington of the +Ballad is supposed to be an Islington in Norfolk. + +"Barbara Allen's Cruelty" was referred to by Pepys in his Diary, January +2, 1665-6 as "the little Scotch song of Barbary Allen." It was first +printed by Allan Ramsay (in 1724) in his "Tea-Table Miscellany." In the +same work Allan Ramsay was also the first printer of "Sweet William's +Ghost." + +Fragments of "The Braes o' Yarrow" are in old collections. The ballad +has been given by Scott in his "Minstrelsy of the Border," and another +version is in Peter Buchan's "Ancient Ballads of the North." + +"Kemp Owyne" is here given from Buchan's "Ballads of the North +of Scotland." Here also Professor F. J. Child has pointed to many +Icelandic, Danish, and German analogies. Allied to "Kemp Owyne" is +the modern ballad of "The Laidley Worm of Spindleston Heughs," written +before 1778 by the Rev. Mr. Lamb of Norham; but the "Laily Worm and the +Machrel of the Sea" is an older cousin to "Kemp Owyne." + +"O'er the Water to Charlie" is given by Buchan as the original form +of this one of the many songs made when Prince Charles Edward made his +attempt in 1745-6. The songs worked scraps of lively old tunes, with +some old words of ballad, into declaration of goodwill to the Pretender. + +"Admiral Hosier's Ghost" was written by Richard Glover in 1740 to rouse +national feeling. Vice-Admiral Vernon with only six men-of-war had taken +the town of Portobello, and levelled its fortifications. The place has +so dangerous a climate that it is now almost deserted. Admiral Hosier +in 1726 had been, in the same port, with twenty ships, restrained from +attack, while he and his men were dying of fever. He was to blockade the +Spanish ports in the West Indies and capture any Spanish galleons that +came out. He left Porto Bello for Carthagena, where he cruised about +while his men were being swept away by disease. His ships were made +powerless through death of his best officers and men. He himself at last +died, it was said, of a broken heart. Dyer's ballad pointed the contrast +as a reproach to the Government for half-hearted support of the war, +and was meant for suggestion of the success that would reward vigorous +action. + +"Jemmy Dawson" was a ballad written by William Shenstone on a young +officer of Manchester volunteers who was hanged, drawn, and quartered +in 1746 on Kennington Common for having served the Pretender. He was +engaged to a young lady, who came to the execution, and when it was over +fell back dead in her coach. + +"William and Margaret," by David Mallet, published in 1727, is another +example of the tendency to the revival of the ballad in the eighteenth +century. + +"Elfinland Wood," by the Scottish poet William Motherwell, who died in +1835, aged thirty-seven, is a modern imitation of the ancient Scottish +ballad. Mrs. Hemans, who wrote "Casabianca," died also in 1835. But the +last ballad in this bundle, Lady Anne Barnard's "Auld Robin Gray," was +written in 1771, and owes its place to a desire that this volume, which +begins with the best of the old ballads, should end with the best of the +new. Lady Anne, eldest daughter of the fifth Earl of Balcarres, married +Sir Andrew Barnard, librarian to George III., and survived her husband +eighteen years. While the authorship of the piece remained a secret +there were some who attributed it to Rizzio, the favourite of Mary Queen +of Scots. Lady Anne Barnard acknowledged the authorship to Walter Scott +in 1823, and told how she came to write it to an old air of which she +was passionately fond, "Bridegroom grat when the sun gaed down." When +she had heaped many troubles on her heroine, and called to a little +sister to suggest another, the suggestion came promptly, "Steal the cow, +sister Anne." And the cow was stolen. + +H. M. + + + + +CHEVY CHASE + + The Percy out of Northumberland, and avow to God made he + That he would hunt in the mountains of Cheviot within days three, + In the maugre of doughty Douglas and all that ever with him be, + The fattest harts in all Cheviot he said he would kill and carry them + away. + "By my faith," said the doughty Douglas again, "I will let that + hunting if that I may!" + Then the Percy out of Bamborough came, with him a mighty mean-y; + With fifteen hundred archers, bold of blood and bone, they were chosen + out of shires three. + This began on a Monday, at morn, in Cheviot, the hillis so hie, + The child may rue that is unborn, it was the more pitie. + The drivers thorough the wood-es went for to raise the deer; + Bowmen bickered upon the bent with their broad arrows clear, + Then the wild thorough the wood-es went on every sid-e shear; + Greyhounds thorough the grov-es glent for to kill their deer. + This began in Cheviot, the hills abone, early on a Monnynday; + By that it drew to the hour of noon a hundred fat harts dead there + lay. + They blew a mort upon the bent; they sembled on sidis shear, + To the quarry then the Percy went, to see the brittling of the deer. + He said, "It was the Douglas' promise this day to meet me here; + But I wist he would fail, verament"--a great oath the Percy sware. + At the last a squire of Northumberland looked, at his hand full nigh + He was ware of the doughty Douglas coming, with him a mighty mean-y, + Both with spear, bill, and brand, it was a mighty sight to see. + Hardier men both of heart nor hand were not in Christiant-e. + They were twenty hundred spearmen good without any fail; + They were borne along by the water of Tweed, i'th' bounds of Tividale. + "Leave off the brittling of the deer," he said, "and to your bows look + ye take good heed, + For never sith ye were of your mothers born had ye never so mickle + need." + The doughty Douglas on a steed he rode all his men beforn, + His armour glittered as did a glede, a bolder barn was never born. + "Tell me whose men ye are," he says, "or whose men that ye be; + Who gave you leave to hunt in this Cheviot Chase in the spite of mine + and of me?" + The first man that ever him an answer made, it was the good Lord Perc- + y, + "We will not tell thee whose men we are," he says, "nor whose men that + we be; + But we will hunt here in this Chase in the spite of thine and of thee. + The fattest harts in all Cheviot we have killed, and cast to carry + them away." + "By my troth," said the doughty Douglas again, "therefore the tone of + us shall die this day." + Then said the doughty Douglas unto the Lord Perc-y, + "To kill all these guiltless men, alas! it were great pit-y. + But, Percy, thou art a lord of land, I am an earl called within my + countr-y. + Let all our men upon a parti stand, and do the battle of thee and of + me." + "Now Christ's curse on his crown," said the Lord Percy, "whosoever + thereto says nay! + By my troth, doughty Douglas," he says, "thou shalt never see that + day! + Neither in England, Scotland, nor France, nor for no man of a woman + born, + But and fortune be my chance, I dare meet him, one man for one." + Then bespake a squire of Northumberland, Richard Witherington was his + name, + "It shall never be told in South England," he says, "to King Harry the + Fourth, for shame. + I wot you ben great lord-es two, I am a poor squire of land; + I will never see my captain fight on a field, and stand myself and + look on; + But while I may my weapon wield I will fight both heart and hand." + That day, that day, that dreadful day: the first fytte here I find, + An you will hear any more of the hunting of the Cheviot, yet is there + more behind. + + + +SECOND FYTTE. + + The English men had their bows ybent, their hearts were good enow; + The first of arrows that they shot off, sevenscore spearmen they + slowe. + Yet bides the Earl Douglas upon the bent, a captain good enow, + And that was seene verament, for he wrought them both wo and wough. + The Douglas parted his host in three like a chief chieftain of pride, + With suar spears of mighty tree they come in on every side, + Through our English archery gave many a wound full wide; + Many a doughty they gard to die, which gain-ed them no pride. + The Englishmen let their bows be, and pulled out brands that were + bright; + It was a heavy sight to see bright swords on basnets light. + Thorough rich mail and manople many stern they struck down straight, + Many a freke that was full free there under foot did light. + At last the Douglas and the Percy met, like to captains of might and + of main; + They swapt together till they both swat, with swords that were of fine + Milan. + These worthy frekis for to fight thereto they were full fain, + Till the blood out of their basnets sprent as ever did hail or rain. + "Yield thee, Percy," said the Douglas, "and in faith I shall thee + bring + Where thou shalt have an earl's wagis of Jamy our Scottish king. + Thou shalt have thy ransom free, I hight thee here this thing, + For the manfullest man yet art thou that ever I conquered in field + fighting." + "Nay," said the Lord Percy, "I told it thee beforn, + That I would never yielded be to no man of a woman born." + With that there came an arrow hastily forth of a mighty wone; + It hath stricken the Earl Douglas in at the breastbone. + Through liver and lung-es both the sharp arrow is gone, + That never after in all his life-days he spake mo word-es but one, + That was, "Fight ye, my merry men, whilis ye may, for my life-days ben + gone!" + The Percy lean-ed on his brand and saw the Douglas dee; + He took the dead man by the hand, and said, "Wo is me for thee! + To have saved thy life I would have parted with my lands for years + three, + For a better man of heart nor of hand was not in all the north + countree." + Of all that see, a Scottish knight, was called Sir Hugh the Montgomer- + y, + He saw the Douglas to the death was dight, he spended a spear a trusty + tree, + He rode upon a coursiere through a hundred archer-y, + He never stinted nor never blane till he came to the good Lord Perc-y. + He set upon the Lord Percy a dint that was full sore; + With a suar spear of a mighty tree clean thorough the body he the + Percy bore + On the tother side that a man might see a large cloth yard and more. + Two better captains were not in Christiant-e than that day slain were + there. + An archer of Northumberland saw slain was the Lord Perc-y, + He bare a bent bow in his hand was made of trusty tree, + An arrow that a cloth yard was long to the hard steel hal-ed he, + A dint that was both sad and sore he sat on Sir Hugh the Montgomer-y. + The dint it was both sad and sore that he on Montgomery set, + The swan-feathers that his arrow bare, with his heart-blood they were + wet. + There was never a freke one foot would flee, but still in stour did + stand, + Hewing on each other while they might dree with many a baleful brand. + This battle began in Cheviot an hour before the noon, + And when evensong bell was rang the battle was not half done. + They took on either hand by the light of the moon, + Many had no strength for to stand in Cheviot the hillis aboon. + Of fifteen hundred archers of England went away but seventy and three, + Of twenty hundred spearmen of Scotland but even five and fift-y; + But all were slain Cheviot within, they had no strength to stand on + hy: + The child may rue that is unborn, it was the more pity. + There was slain with the Lord Percy Sir John of Agerstone, + Sir Roger the hinde Hartley, Sir William the bold Herone, + Sir George the worthy Lumley, a knight of great renown, + Sir Ralph the rich Rugby, with dints were beaten down; + For Witherington my heart was wo, that ever he slain should be, + For when both his leggis were hewen in two, yet he kneeled and fought + on his knee. + There was slain with the doughty Douglas Sir Hugh the Montgomer-y; + Sir Davy Lewdale, that worthy was, his sister's son was he; + Sir Charles of Murray in that place that never a foot would flee; + Sir Hugh Maxwell, a lord he was, with the Douglas did he dee. + So on the morrow they made them biers of birch and hazel so gay; + Many widows with weeping tears came to fetch their makis away. + Tivydale may carp of care, Northumberland may make great moan, + For two such captains as slain were there on the March parti shall + never be none. + Word is comen to Edinborough to Jamy the Scottish king, + That doughty Douglas, lieutenant of the Marches, he lay slain Cheviot + within. + His hand-es did he weal and wring; he said, "Alas! and woe is me: + Such another captain Scotland within," he said, "yea faith should + never be." + Word is comen to lovely London, to the fourth Harry our king, + That Lord Perc-y, lieutenant of the Marches, he lay slain Cheviot + within. + "God have mercy on his soul," said King Harry, "good Lord, if thy will + it be, + I have a hundred captains in England," he said, "as good as ever was + he; + But Percy, an I brook my life, thy death well quite shall be." + As our noble king made his avow, like a noble prince of renown, + For the death of the Lord Perc-y he did the battle of Homildoun, + Where six and thirty Scottish knights on a day were beaten down; + Glendale glittered on their armour bright, over castle, tower, and + town. + This was the hunting of the Cheviot; that tear began this spurn; + Old men that knowen the ground well enough call it the battle of + Otterburn. + At Otterburn began this spurn upon a Monenday; + There was the doughty Douglas slain, the Percy never went away. + There was never a time on the March part-es sen the Douglas and the + Percy met, + But it is marvel an the red blood run not as the rain does in the + stret. + Jesu Christ our balis bete, and to the bliss us bring! + Thus was the hunting of the Cheviot. God send us all good ending! + + + + +CHEVY CHASE (the later version.) + + God prosper long our noble king, + Our lives and safeties all! + A woeful hunting once there did + In Chevy Chase befall. + + To drive the deer with hound and horn + Earl Piercy took the way; + The child may rue that is unborn + The hunting of that day! + + The stout Earl of Northumberland, + A vow to God did make, + His pleasure in the Scottish woods + Three summers' days to take, + + The chiefest harts in Chevy Chase + To kill and bear away; + These tidings to Earl Douglas came + In Scotland where he lay, + + Who sent Earl Piercy present word + He would prevent his sport. + The English Earl, not fearing that, + Did to the woods resort, + + With fifteen hundred bowmen bold, + All chosen men of might, + Who knew full well in time of need + To aim their shafts aright. + + The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran + To chase the fallow deer; + On Monday they began to hunt + Ere daylight did appear; + + And long before high noon they had + A hundred fat bucks slain. + Then having dined, the drivers went + To rouse the deer again. + + The bowmen mustered on the hills, + Well able to endure; + Their backsides all with special care + That day were guarded sure. + + The hounds ran swiftly through the woods + The nimble deer to take, + That with their cries the hills and dales + An echo shrill did make. + + Lord Piercy to the quarry went + To view the tender deer; + Quoth he, "Earl Douglas promised once + This day to meet me here; + + "But if I thought he would not come, + No longer would I stay." + With that a brave young gentleman + Thus to the Earl did say, + + "Lo, yonder doth Earl Douglas come, + His men in armour bright, + Full twenty hundred Scottish spears + All marching in our sight, + + "All men of pleasant Tividale + Fast by the river Tweed." + "O cease your sports!" Earl Piercy said, + "And take your bows with speed, + + "And now with me, my countrymen, + Your courage forth advance! + For there was never champion yet + In Scotland nor in France + + "That ever did on horseback come, + But if my hap it were, + I durst encounter man for man, + With him to break a spear." + + Earl Douglas on his milk-white steed, + Most like a baron bold, + Rode foremost of his company, + Whose armour shone like gold: + + "Show me," said he, "whose men you be + That hunt so boldly here; + That without my consent do chase + And kill my fallow deer." + + The first man that did answer make + Was noble Piercy, he, + Who said, "We list not to declare, + Nor show whose men we be; + + "Yet we will spend our dearest blood + Thy chiefest harts to slay." + Then Douglas swore a solemn oath, + And thus in rage did say, + + "Ere thus I will outbrav-ed be, + One of us two shall die! + I know thee well! an earl thou art, + Lord Piercy! so am I. + + "But trust me, Piercy, pity it were, + And great offence, to kill + Any of these our guiltless men + For they have done no ill; + + "Let thou and I the battle try, + And set our men aside." + "Accurst be he," Earl Piercy said, + "By whom it is denied." + + Then stepped a gallant squire forth,-- + Witherington was his name,-- + Who said, "I would not have it told + To Henry our king, for shame, + + "That e'er my captain fought on foot, + And I stand looking on: + You be two Earls," quoth Witherington, + "And I a Squire alone. + + "I'll do the best that do I may, + While I have power to stand! + While I have power to wield my sword, + I'll fight with heart and hand!" + + Our English archers bent their bows-- + Their hearts were good and true,-- + At the first flight of arrows sent, + Full fourscore Scots they slew. + + To drive the deer with hound and horn, + Douglas bade on the bent; + Two captains moved with mickle might, + Their spears to shivers went. + + They closed full fast on every side, + No slackness there was found, + But many a gallant gentleman + Lay gasping on the ground. + + O Christ! it was great grief to see + How each man chose his spear, + And how the blood out of their breasts + Did gush like water clear! + + At last these two stout Earls did meet + Like captains of great might; + Like lions wood they laid on load, + They made a cruel fight. + + They fought, until they both did sweat, + With swords of tempered steel, + Till blood adown their cheeks like rain + They trickling down did feel. + + "O yield thee, Piercy!" Douglas said, + "And in faith I will thee bring + Where thou shalt high advanc-ed be + By James our Scottish king; + + "Thy ransom I will freely give, + And this report of thee, + Thou art the most courageous knight + That ever I did see." + + "No, Douglas!" quoth Earl Piercy then, + "Thy proffer I do scorn; + I will not yield to any Scot + That ever yet was born!" + + With that there came an arrow keen + Out of an English bow, + Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart + A deep and deadly blow; + + Who never said more words than these, + "Fight on; my merry men all! + For why? my life is at an end, + Lord Piercy sees my fall." + + Then leaving life, Earl Piercy took + The dead man by the hand; + Who said, "Earl Douglas! for thy life + Would I had lost my land! + + "O Christ! my very heart doth bleed + For sorrow for thy sake! + For sure, a more redoubted knight + Mischance could never take!" + + A knight amongst the Scots there was, + Which saw Earl Douglas die, + Who straight in heart did vow revenge + Upon the Lord Pierc-y; + + Sir Hugh Montgomery he was called, + Who, with a spear full bright, + Well mounted on a gallant steed, + Ran fiercely through the fight, + + And past the English archers all + Without all dread or fear, + And through Earl Piercy's body then + He thrust his hateful spear. + + With such a vehement force and might + His body he did gore, + The staff ran through the other side + A large cloth yard and more. + + So thus did both those nobles die, + Whose courage none could stain. + An English archer then perceived + The noble Earl was slain; + + He had a good bow in his hand + Made of a trusty tree; + An arrow of a cloth yard long + To the hard head hal-ed he, + + Against Sir Hugh Montgomery + His shaft full right he set; + The grey goose-wing that was thereon, + In his heart's blood was wet. + + This fight from break of day did last + Till setting of the sun; + For when they rung the evening bell, + The battle scarce was done. + + With stout Earl Piercy there was slain + Sir John of Egerton, + Sir Robert Harcliffe and Sir William, + Sir James that bold bar-on; + + And with Sir George and Sir James, + Both knights of good account, + Good Sir Ralph Raby there was slain, + Whose prowess did surmount. + + For Witherington needs must I wail + As one in doleful dumps, + For when his legs were smitten off, + He fought upon his stumps. + + And with Earl Douglas there was slain + Sir Hugh Montgomery, + And Sir Charles Morrel that from the field + One foot would never fly; + + Sir Roger Hever of Harcliffe too,-- + His sister's son was he,-- + Sir David Lambwell, well esteemed, + But saved he could not be; + + And the Lord Maxwell in like case + With Douglas he did die; + Of twenty hundred Scottish spears, + Scarce fifty-five did fly. + + Of fifteen hundred Englishmen + Went home but fifty-three; + The rest in Chevy Chase were slain, + Under the greenwood tree. + + Next day did many widows come + Their husbands to bewail; + They washed their wounds in brinish tears, + But all would not prevail. + + Their bodies, bathed in purple blood, + They bore with them away; + They kissed them dead a thousand times + Ere they were clad in clay. + + This news was brought to Edinburgh, + Where Scotland's king did reign, + That brave Earl Douglas suddenly + Was with an arrow slain. + + "O heavy news!" King James did say, + "Scotland may witness be + I have not any captain more + Of such account as he!" + + Like tidings to King Henry came + Within as short a space, + That Piercy of Northumberland + Was slain in Chevy Chase. + + "Now God be with him!" said our king, + "Sith 'twill no better be, + I trust I have within my realm + Five hundred as good as he! + + "Yet shall not Scots nor Scotland say + But I will vengeance take, + And be reveng-ed on them all + For brave Earl Piercy's sake." + + This vow the king did well perform + After on Humble Down; + In one day fifty knights were slain, + With lords of great renown, + + And of the rest of small account, + Did many hundreds die: + Thus ended the hunting in Chevy Chase + Made by the Earl Piercy. + + God save our king, and bless this land + With plenty, joy, and peace, + And grant henceforth that foul debate + Twixt noble men may cease! + + + + +THE NUT-BROWN MAID + + Be it right or wrong, these men among + On women do complain; + Affirming this, how that it is + A labour spent in vain + To love them wele; for never a dele + They love a man again: + For let a man do what he can, + Their favour to attain, + Yet, if a new to them pursue, + Their first true lover than + Laboureth for naught; and from her thought + He is a banished man. + + I say not nay, but that all day + It is both writ and said + That woman's faith is, as who saith, + All utterly decayed; + But nevertheless, right good witn-ess + In this case might be laid. + That they love true, and contin-ue, + Record the Nut-brown Maid: + Which from her love, when her to prove + He came to make his moan, + Would not depart; for in her heart + She loved but him alone. + + Then between us let us discuss + What was all the manere + Between them two: we will also + Tell all the pain in fere + That she was in. Now I begin, + So that ye me answere: + Wher-efore, ye, that present be + I pray you give an ear. + I am the knight. I come by night, + As secret as I can; + Saying, "Alas! thus standeth the case, + I am a banished man." + + And I your will for to fulfil + In this will not refuse; + Trusting to shew, in word-es few, + That men have an ill use + (To their own shame) women to blame, + And causeless them accuse: + Therefore to you I answer now, + All women to excuse,-- + "Mine own heart dear, with you what cheer? + I pray you, tell anone: + For, in my mind, of all mankind + I love but you alone." + + HE. + "It standeth so: a deed is do + Whereof much harm shall grow; + My destiny is for to die + A shameful death, I trow; + Or else to flee. The one must be. + None other way I know, + But to withdraw as an out-law, + And take me to my bow. + Wherefore, adieu, my own heart true! + None other rede I can: + For I must to the green wood go, + Alone, a banished man." + + SHE. + "O Lord, what is this world-es bliss, + That changeth as the moon! + My summer's day in lusty May + Is darked before the noon. + I hear you say, farewell: Nay, nay! + We de-part not so soon. + Why say ye so? whither will ye go? + Alas! what have ye done? + All my welf-are to sorrow and care + Should change, if ye were gone: + For, in my mind, of all mankind + I love but you alone." + + HE. + "I can believe, it shall you grieve, + And somewhat you distrain; + But, afterward, your pain-es hard + Within a day or twain + Shall soon aslake; and ye shall take + Com-fort to you again. + Why should ye nought? for, to make thought, + Your labour were in vain. + And thus I do; and pray you, lo, + As heartily as I can: + For I must to the green wood go, + Alone, a banished man." + + SHE. + "Now, sith that ye have shewed to me + The secret of your mind, + I shall be plain to you again, + Like as ye shall me find. + Sith it is so, that ye will go, + I will not leave behind. + Shall never be said, the Nut-brown Maid + Was to her love unkind: + Make you read-y, for so am I, + Although it were anone: + For, in my mind, of all mankind + I love but you alone." + + HE. + "Yet I you re-de, take good heed + When men will think and say: + Of young, of old, it shall be told, + That ye be gone away + Your wanton will for to fulfil, + In green wood you to play; + And that ye might from your delight + No longer make delay. + Rather than ye should thus for me + Be called an ill wom-an, + Yet would I to the green wood go, + Alone, a banished man." + + SHE. + "Though it be sung of old and young, + That I should be to blame, + Theirs be the charge that speak so large + In hurting of my name: + For I will prove, that faithful love + It is devoid of shame + In your distress and heaviness + To part with you the same: + And sure all tho that do not so, + True lovers are they none: + For, in my mind, of all mankind + I love but you alone." + + HE. + "I counsel you, Remember how + It is no maiden's law + Nothing to doubt, but to run out + To wood with an out-law; + For ye must there in your hand bear + A bow to bear and draw; + And, as a thief, thus must ye live, + Ever in dread and awe; + By which to you great harm might grow: + Yet had I liever than + That I had to the green wood go + Alone, a banished man." + + SHE. + "I think not nay, but as ye say, + It is no maiden's lore; + But love may make me for your sake, + As ye have said before, + To come on foot, to hunt and shoot + To get us meat and store; + For so that I your company + May have, I ask no more; + From which to part, it maketh mine heart + As cold as any stone: + For, in my mind, of all mankind + I love but you alone." + + HE. + "For an out-law, this is the law, + That men him take and bind; + Without pit-ie, hang-ed to be, + And waver with the wind. + If I had nede (as God forbede!) + What rescues could ye find? + Forsooth, I trow, you and your bow + Should draw for fear behind. + And no mervayle: for little avail + Were in your counsel than: + Wherefore I to the wood will go, + Alone, a banished man." + + SHE + "Full well know ye, that women be + Full feeble for to fight; + No womanhede it is indeed + To be bold as a knight; + Yet, in such fear if that ye were + Among enemies day and night, + I would withstand, with bow in hand, + To grieve them as I might, + And you to save; as women have + From death many a one: + For, in my mind, of all mankind + I love but you alone." + + HE. + "Yet take good hede; for ever I drede + That ye could not sustain + The thorny ways, the deep vall-eys, + The snow, the frost, the rain, + The cold, the heat: for dry or wet, + We must lodge on the plain; + And, us above, none other roof + But a brake bush or twain: + Which soon should grieve you, I believe: + And ye would gladly than + That I had to the green wood go, + Alone, a banished man." + + SHE. + "Sith I have here been partynere + With you of joy and bliss, + I must al-so part of your woe + Endure, as reason is: + Yet am I sure of one pleas-ure; + And, shortly, it is this: + That, where ye be, me seemeth, perde, + I could not fare amiss. + Without more speech, I you beseech + That we were soon agone: + For, in my mind, of all mankind + I love but you alone." + + HE. + "If ye go thyder, ye must consider, + When ye have lust to dine, + There shall no meat be for to gete, + Nor drink, beer, ale, ne wine. + Ne sheet-es clean, to lie between, + Ymade of thread and twine; + None other house, but leaves and boughs, + To cover your head and mine; + Lo mine heart sweet, this ill di-ete + Should make you pale and wan: + Wherefore I to the wood will go, + Alone, a banished man." + + SHE. + "Among the wild deer, such an archere, + As men say that ye be, + Ne may not fail of good vitayle, + Where is so great plent-y: + And water clear of the rivere + Shall be full sweet to me; + With which in hele I shall right wele + Endure, as ye shall see; + And, ere we go, a bed or two + I can provide anone; + For, in my mind, of all mankind + I love but you alone." + + HE. + "Lo yet, before, ye must do more, + If ye will go with me: + As cut your hair up by your ear, + Your kirtle by the knee, + With bow in hand, for to withstand + Your enemies, if need be: + And this same night, before daylight, + To woodward will I flee. + An ye will all this fulfil, + Do it shortly as ye can: + Else will I to the green wood go, + Alone, a banished man." + + SHE. + "I shall as now do more for you + Than 'longeth to womanhede; + To short my hair, a bow to bear, + To shoot in time of need. + O my sweet mother! before all other + For you have I most drede! + But now, adieu! I must ensue, + Where fortune doth me lead. + All this make ye. Now let us flee; + The day comes fast upon: + For, in my mind, of all mankind + I love but you alone." + + HE. + "Nay, nay, not so; ye shall not go, + And I shall tell you why,-- + Your appetite is to be light + Of love, I well espy: + For, right as ye have said to me, + In like wise hardily + Ye would answere whosoever it were, + In way of company, + It is said of old, Soon hot, soon cold; + And so is a wom-an: + Wherefore I to the wood will go, + Alone, a banished man." + + SHE. + "If ye take heed, it is no need + Such words to say by me; + For oft ye prayed, and long assayed, + Or I you loved, pard-e; + And though that I of ancestry + A baron's daughter be, + Yet have you proved how I you loved. + A squire of low degree; + And ever shall, whatso befall; + To die therefore anone; + For, in my mind, of all mankind + I love but you alone." + + HE. + "A baron's child to be beguiled! + It were a curs-ed dede; + To be fel-aw with an out-law + Almighty God forbede! + Yet better were, the poor squyere + Alone to forest yede, + Than ye shall say another day, + That by my wicked dede + Ye were betrayed: Wherefore, good maid, + The best rede that I can, + Is, that I to the green wood go, + Alone, a banished man." + + SHE. + "Whatsoever befall, I never shall + Of this thing you upbraid: + But if ye go, and leave me so, + Then have ye me betrayed. + Remember you wele, how that ye dele, + For if ye, as ye said, + Be so unkind to leave behind + Your love, the Nut-brown Maid, + Trust me tru-ly, that I shall die + Soon after ye be gone: + For, in my mind, of all mankind + I love but you alone." + + HE. + "If that ye went, ye should repent; + For in the forest now + I have purveyed me of a maid, + Whom I love more than you; + Another fairer than ever ye were, + I dare it well avow; + And of you both, each should be wroth + With other, as I trow: + It were mine ease to live in peace; + So will I, if I can: + Wherefore I to the wood will go, + Alone, a banished man." + + SHE. + "Though in the wood I understood + Ye had a paramour, + All this may nought remove my thought, + But that I will be your: + And she shall find me soft and kind, + And courteis every hour; + Glad to fulfil all that she will + Command me, to my power: + For had ye, lo! an hundred mo, + Yet would I be that one: + For, in my mind, of all mankind + I love but you alone." + + HE. + "Mine own dear love, I see the proof + That ye be kind and true; + Of maid, and wife, in all my life, + The best that ever I knew. + Be merry and glad; be no more sad; + The case is chang-ed new; + For it were ruth that for your truth + You should have cause to rue. + Be not dismayed, whatsoever I said + To you, when I began: + I will not to the green wood go; + I am no banished man." + + SHE. + "These tidings be more glad to me, + Than to be made a queen, + If I were sure they should endure: + But it is often seen, + When men will break promise they speak + The wordis on the spleen. + Ye shape some wile me to beguile, + And steal from me, I ween: + Then were the case worse than it was + And I more wo-begone: + For, in my mind, of all mankind + I love but you alone." + + HE. + "Ye shall not nede further to drede: + I will not dispar-age + You (God defend!), sith you descend + Of so great a lin-age. + Now understand: to Westmoreland, + Which is my heritage, + I will you bring; and with a ring + By way of marri-age + I will you take, and lady make, + As shortly as I can: + Thus have ye won an earl-es son + And not a banished man." + + Here may ye see, that women be + In love, meek, kind, and stable; + Let never man reprove them than, + Or call them vari-able; + But, rather, pray God that we may + To them be comfort-able, + Which sometime proveth such as he loveth, + If they be charit-able. + For sith men would that women should + Be meek to them each one; + Much more ought they to God obey, + And serve but Him alone. + + + + +ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH, AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLIE. + + THE FIRST FYTTE. + + Merry it was in green for-est, + Among the leav-es green, + Where that men walk both east and west + With bows and arrows keen, + To raise the deer out of their den, + Such sights as hath oft been seen; + As by three yeomen of the North Countrey: + By them is as I mean. + + The one of them hight Adam Bell, + The other Clym of the Clough, + The third was William of Cloudeslie, + An archer good enough. + They were outlawed for venison, + These three yeomen every one; + They swore them brethren upon a day, + To Ingle wood for to gone. + + Now lith and listen, gentlemen, + And that of mirths love to hear: + Two of them were single men, + The third had a wedded fere. + William was the wedded man, + Much more then was his care; + He said to his brethren upon a day, + To Carlisle he would fare, + + For to speak with fair Alice his wife, + And with his children three. + "By my troth," said Adam Bell, + "Not by the counsel of me: + For if ye go to Carlisle, brother, + And from this wild wood wend, + If the Justice may you take, + Your life were at an end."-- + + "If that I come not to-morrow, brother, + By prime to you again, + Trust not else but that I am take, + Or else that I am slain."-- + He took his leave of his brethren two, + And to Carlisle he is gone. + There he knocked at his own wind-ow + Shortly and anon. + + "Where be you, fair Alice, my wife? + And my children three? + Lightly let in thine husb-and, + William of Cloudeslie."-- + "Alas," then saide fair Al-ice, + And sigh-ed wondrous sore, + "This place hath been beset for you, + This half-e year and more." + + "Now am I here," said Cloudeslie, + "I would that I in were;-- + Now fetch us meat and drink enough, + And let us make good cheer." + She fetched him meat and drink plent-y, + Like a true wedded wife, + And pleas-ed him with that she had, + Whom she loved as her life. + + There lay an old wife in that place, + A little beside the fire, + Which William had found of charity + Mor-e than seven year; + Up she rose, and walked full still, + Evil mote she speed therefore: + For she had not set no foot on ground + In seven year before. + + She went unto the justice hall, + As fast as she could hie: + "This night is come unto this town + William of Cloudeslie." + Thereof the Justice was full fain, + And so was the Sheriff also; + "Thou shalt not travel hither, dame, for nought, + Thy meed thou shalt have, ere thou go." + + They gave to her a right good gown, + Of scarlet it was, as I heard sain; + She took the gift and home she went, + And couched her down again. + They raised the town of merry Carlisle, + In all the haste that they can, + And came throng-ing to William's house, + As fast as they might gan. + + There they beset that good yeo-man, + Round about on every side; + William heard great noise of folks, + That hitherward hied. + Alice opened a shot wind-ow, + And look-ed all about + She was ware of the Justice and the Sheriff both, + With a full great rout. + + "Alas, treason!" cried Alice, + "Ever woe may thou be!-- + Go into my chamber, my husband," she said, + "Sweet William of Cloudeslie." + He took his sword and his buckl-er, + His bow and his children three, + And went into his strongest chamber, + Where he thought surest to be. + + Fair Al-ice followed him as a lover true, + With a poleaxe in her hand: + "He shall be dead that here cometh in + This door, while I may stand." + Cloudeslie bent a well-good bow, + That was of trusty tree, + He smote the Justice on the breast, + That his arrow burst in three. + + "God's curse on his heart!" said William, + "This day thy coat did on, + If it had been no better than mine, + It had gone near thy bone!" + "Yield thee, Cloudeslie," said the Justice, + "And thy bow and thy arrows thee fro!" + "God's curse on his heart," said fair Al-ice, + "That my husband counselleth so!" + + "Set fire on the house," said the Sheriff, + "Sith it will no better be, + And burn we therein William," he said, + "His wife and his children three!" + They fired the house in many a place, + The fire flew up on high; + "Alas," then cried fair Al-ice, + "I see we shall here die!" + + William opened his back wind-ow, + That was in his chamber on high, + And with shet-es let his wif-e down, + And his children three. + "Have here my treasure," said Willi-am, + "My wife and my children three; + For Christ-es love do them no harm, + But wreak you all on me." + + William shot so wondrous well, + Till his arrows were all gone, + And the fire so fast upon him fell, + That his bowstring burnt in two. + The sparkles burnt, and fell upon, + Good William of Cloudeslie! + But then was he a woeful man, and said, + "This is a coward's death to me. + + "Liever I had," said Willi-am, + "With my sword in the rout to run, + Than here among mine enemies' wood, + Thus cruelly to burn." + He took his sword and his buckler then, + And among them all he ran, + Where the people were most in press, + He smote down many a man. + + There might no man abide his stroke, + So fiercely on them he ran; + Then they threw windows and doors on him, + And so took that good yeom-an. + There they bound him hand and foot, + And in a deep dungeon him cast: + "Now, Cloudeslie," said the high Just-ice, + "Thou shalt be hanged in haste!" + + "One vow shall I make," said the Sheriff, + "A pair of new gallows shall I for thee make, + And all the gates of Carlisle shall be shut, + There shall no man come in thereat. + Then shall not help Clym of the Clough + Nor yet Adam Bell, + Though they came with a thousand mo, + Nor all the devils in hell." + + Early in the morning the Justice uprose, + To the gates fast gan he gone, + And commanded to shut close + Lightly every one; + Then went he to the market-place, + As fast as he could hie, + A pair of new gallows there he set up, + Beside the pillor-y. + + A little boy stood them among, + And asked what meant that gallows tree; + They said-e, "To hang a good yeoman, + Called William of Cloudeslie." + That little boy was the town swineherd, + And kept fair Alice' swine, + Full oft he had seen William in the wood, + And given him there to dine. + + He went out at a crevice in the wall, + And lightly to the wood did gone; + There met he with these wight yeomen, + Shortly and anon. + "Alas!" then said that little boy, + "Ye tarry here all too long! + Cloudeslie is taken and damned to death, + And ready for to hong." + + "Alas!" then said good Adam Bell, + "That ever we see this day! + He might here with us have dwelled, + So oft as we did him pray. + He might have tarried in green for-est, + Under the shadows sheen, + And have kept both him and us at rest, + Out of all trouble and teen." + + Adam bent a right good bow, + A great hart soon had he slain: + "Take that, child," he said, "to thy dinner, + And bring me mine arrow again." + "Now go we hence," said these wight yeomen, + "Tarry we no longer here; + We shall him borrow, by God's grace, + Though we abye it full dear." + + To Carlisle went these good yeom-en + On a merry morning of May. + Here is a fytte of Cloudeslie, + And another is for to say. + + + + +THE SECOND FYTTE. + + And when they came to merry Carlisle, + All in a morning tide, + They found the gates shut them until, + Round about on every side. + "Alas," then said good Adam Bell, + "That ever we were made men! + These gates be shut so wonderly well, + That we may not come here in." + + Then spake him Clym of the Clough: + "With a wile we will us in bring; + Let us say we be messengers, + Straight comen from our King." + Adam said: "I have a letter written well, + Now let us wisely werk; + We will say we have the King-e's seal, + I hold the porter no clerk." + + Then Adam Bell beat on the gate, + With strok-es great and strong; + The porter heard such noise thereat, + And to the gate he throng. + "Who is there now," said the porter, + "That maketh all this knocking?" + "We be two messengers," said Clym of the Clough, + "Be comen straight from our King." + + "We have a letter," said Adam Bell, + "To the Justice we must it bring; + Let us in our message to do, + That we were again to our King." + "Here cometh no man in," said the porter, + "By him that died on a tree, + Till that a false thief be hanged, + Called William of Cloudeslie!" + + Then spake the good yeoman Clym of the Clough, + And swore by Mary free, + "If that we stand-e long without, + Like a thief hanged shalt thou be. + Lo here we have the King-es seal; + What, lourdain, art thou wood?" + The porter weened it had been so, + And lightly did off his hood. + + "Welcome be my lord's seal," said he, + "For that shall ye come in." + He opened the gate right shortelie, + An evil open-ing for him. + "Now are we in," said Adam Bell, + "Thereof we are full fain, + But Christ he knoweth, that harrowed hell, + How we shall come out again." + + "Had we the keys," said Clym of the Clough, + "Right well then should we speed; + Then might we come out well enough + When we see time and need." + They called the porter to a couns-el, + And wrung his neck in two, + And cast him in a deep dunge-on, + And took the keys him fro. + + "Now am I porter," said Adam Bell; + "See, brother, the keys have we here; + The worst port-er to merry Carlisle + They have had this hundred year: + And now will we our bow-es bend, + Into the town will we go, + For to deliver our dear broth-er, + That lieth in care and woe." + + They bent their good yew bow-es, + And looked their strings were round, + The market-place of merry Carlisle + They beset in that stound; + And as they look-ed them beside, + A pair of new gallows there they see, + And the Justice with a quest of squires, + That judged William hang-ed to be. + + And Cloudeslie lay ready there in a cart, + Fast bound both foot and hand, + And a strong rope about his neck, + All ready for to be hanged. + The Justice called to him a lad, + Cloudeslie's clothes should he have + To take the measure of that yeom-an, + Thereafter to make his grave. + + "I have seen as great marvel," said Cloudeslie, + "As between this and prime; + He that maketh this grave for me, + Himself may lie therein."-- + "Thou speakest proudly," said the Justice; + "I shall hang thee with my hand." + Full well that heard his brethren two, + There still as they did stand. + + Then Cloudeslie cast his eyen aside, + And saw his two brethren + At a corner of the market-place, + Ready the Justice to slain. + "I see good comfort," said Cloudeslie, + "Yet hope I well to fare; + If I might have my hands at will, + Right little would I care." + + Then spake good Adam Bell + To Clym of the Clough so free, + "Brother, see ye mark the Justice well; + Lo, yonder ye may him see; + And at the Sheriff shoot I will + Strongly with arrow keen." + A better shot in merry Carlisle + This seven year was not seen. + + They loosed their arrows both at once, + Of no man had they drede; + The one hit the Justice, the other the Sheriff, + That both their sides gan bleed. + All men voided, that them stood nigh, + When the Justice fell to the ground, + And the Sheriff fell nigh him by, + Either had his death's wound. + + All the citizens fast gan flee, + They durst no longer abide; + Then lightly they loos-ed Cloudeslie, + Where he with ropes lay tied. + William stert to an officer of the town, + His axe out of his hand he wrong, + On each-e side he smote them down, + Him thought he tarried too long. + + William said to his brethren two: + "Together let us live and dee; + If e'er you have need, as I have now, + The same shall ye find by me." + They shot so well in that tide, + For their strings were of silk full sure, + That they kept the streets on every side, + That battle did long endure. + + They fought together as brethren true, + Like hardy men and bold; + Many a man to the ground they threw, + And many an heart made cold. + But when their arrows were all gone, + Men pressed to them full fast; + They drew their sword-es then anon, + And their bow-es from them cast. + + They went lightly on their way, + With swords and bucklers round; + By that it was the middes of the day, + They had made many a wound. + There was many a neat-horn in Carlisle blown, + And the bells back-ward did ring; + Many a woman said "Alas!" + And many their hands did wring. + + The Mayor of Carlisle forth come was, + And with him a full great rout; + These three yeomen dread him full sore, + For their lives stood in doubt. + The Mayor came armed a full great pace, + With a poleaxe in his hand; + Many a strong man with him was, + There in that stour to stand. + + The Mayor smote Cloudeslie with his bill, + His buckler he burst in two; + Full many a yeoman with great ill, + "Alas! treason!" they cried for woe. + "Keep we the gat-es fast," they bade, + "That these traitors thereout not go!" + + But all for nought was that they wrought, + For so fast they down were laid, + Till they all three that so manfully fought, + Were gotten without at a braid. + "Have here your keys," said Adam Bell, + "Mine office I here forsake; + If you do by my coun-sel, + A new port-er do ye make." + + He threw the keys there at their heads, + And bade them evil to thrive, + And all that letteth any good yeo-man + To come and comfort his wife. + Thus be these good yeomen gone to the wood, + As light as leaf on linde; + They laugh and be merry in their mood, + Their en'mies were far behind. + + When they came to Inglewood, + Under their trysting tree, + There they found bow-es full good, + And arrows great plent-y. + "So help me God," said Adam Bell, + And Clym of the Clough so free, + "I would we were now in merry Carlisle, + Before that fair meynie!" + + They sit them down and make good cheer, + And eat and drink full well.-- + Here is a fytte of these wight yeomen, + And another I shall you tell. + + + + +THE THIRD FYTTE. + + As they sat in Inglewood + Under their trysting tree, + They thought they heard a woman weep, + But her they might not see. + Sore there sigh-ed fair Al-ice, + And said, "Alas that e'er I see this day! + For now is my dear husband slain: + Alas, and well away! + + "Might I have spoken with his dear brethren, + With either of them twain, + To show-e them what him befell, + My heart were out of pain." + Cloudeslie walked a little beside, + And looked under the greenwood linde; + He was ware of his wife and his children three, + Full woe in heart and mind. + + "Welcome, wife," then said Willi-am, + "Under this trysting tree! + I had weened yesterday, by sweet Saint John, + Thou should me never have see." + "Now well is me," she said, "that ye be here! + My heart is out of woe."-- + "Dame," he said, "be merry and glad, + And thank my brethren two." + + "Hereof to speak," said Adam Bell, + "Iwis it is no boot; + The meat that we must sup withal + It runneth yet fast on foot." + Then went they down into the launde, + These noble archers all three; + Each of them slew a hart of grease, + The best that they could see. + + "Have here the best, Al-ice, my wife," + Said William of Cloudeslie, + "Because ye so boldly stood me by + When I was slain full nie." + And then they went to their supp-er + With such meat as they had, + And thanked God of their fort-une; + They were both merry and glad. + + And when that they had supp-ed well, + Certain withouten lease, + Cloudeslie said: "We will to our King, + To get us a charter of peace; + Al-ice shall be at our sojourning, + In a nunnery here beside, + And my two sons shall with her go, + And there they shall abide. + + "Mine eldest son shall go with me, + For him have I no care, + And he shall bring you word again + How that we do fare." + Thus be these yeomen to London gone, + As fast as they may hie, + Till they came to the King's pal-ace, + Where they would needs be. + + And when they came to the King-es court, + Unto the palace gate, + Of no man would they ask no leave, + But boldly went in thereat. + They press-ed prestly into the hall, + Of no man had they dread; + The porter came after, and did them call, + And with them gan to chide. + + The usher said: "Yeomen, what would ye have? + I pray you tell to me; + You might thus make officers shent, + Good sirs, of whence be ye?" + "Sir, we be outlaws of the for-est, + Certain without any lease, + And hither we be come to our King, + To get us a charter of peace."-- + + And when they came before the King, + As it was the law of the land, + They kneel-ed down without lett-ing, + And each held up his hand. + They said: "Lord, we beseech thee here, + That ye will grant us grace: + For we have slain your fat fallow deer + In many a sundry place."-- + + "What be your names?" then said our King, + "Anon that you tell me." + They said: "Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough, + And William of Cloudeslie."-- + "Be ye those thieves," then said our King, + "That men have told of to me? + Here to God I make avowe + Ye shall be hanged all three! + + "Ye shall be dead without merc-y, + As I am King of this land." + He commanded his officers every one + Fast on them to lay hand. + There they took these good yeomen; + And arrested them all three. + "So may I thrive," said Adam Bell, + "This game liketh not me. + + "But, good lord, we beseech you now, + That ye will grant us grace, + Insomuch as we be to you comen; + Or else that we may fro you pace + With such weapons as we have here, + Till we be out of your place; + And if we live this hundred year, + Of you we will ask no grace."-- + + "Ye speak proudly," said the King; + "Ye shall be hanged all three." + "That were great pity," then said the Queen, + "If any grace might be. + My lord, when I came first into this land, + To be your wedded wife, + Ye said the first boon that I would ask, + Ye would grant it me belife. + + "And I asked never none till now: + Therefore, good lord, grant it me." + "Now ask it, madam," said the King, + "And granted shall it be."-- + "Then, good my lord, I you beseech, + These yeomen grant ye me."-- + "Madam, ye might have asked a boon, + That should have been worth them all three: + + "Ye might have ask-ed towers and towns, + Parks and for-ests plent-y."-- + "None so pleasant to my pay," she said, + "Nor none so lief to me."-- + "Madam, sith it is your desire, + Your asking granted shall be; + But I had liever have given you + Good market town-es three." + + The Queen she was a glad wom-an, + And said: "Lord, gramerc-y, + I dare well undertake for them + That true men shall they be. + But, good lord, speak some merry word, + That comfort they may see."-- + "I grant you grace," then said our King; + "Wash, fellows, and to meat go ye." + + They had not sitten but a while, + Certain, without leas-ing, + There came two messengers out of the north, + With letters to our King. + And when they came before the King, + They kneeled down upon their knee, + And said: "Lord, your officers greet you well + Of Carlisle in the north countree."-- + + "How fareth my Justice?" said the King, + "And my Sheriff also?"-- + "Sir, they be slain, without leas-ing, + And many an officer mo."-- + "Who hath them slain?" then said the King, + "Anon thou tell-e me."-- + "Adam Bell, and Clym of the Clough, + And William of Cloudeslie."-- + + "Alas, for ruth!" then said our King, + "My heart is wondrous sore; + I had liever than a thousand pound + I had known of this before; + For I have y-granted them grace, + And that forthinketh me: + But had I known all this before, + They had been hanged all three."-- + + The King he opened the letter anon, + Himself he read it tho, + And found how these three outlaws had slain + Three hundred men and mo; + First the Justice and the Sheriff, + And the Mayor of Carlisle town, + Of all the const-ables and catchipolls + Alive were left but one; + + The bailiffs and the bedels both, + And the serjeants of the law, + And forty fosters of the fee, + These outlaws have they slaw; + And broken his parks, and slain his deer, + Over all they chose the best, + So perilous outlaws as they were, + Walked not by east nor west. + + When the King this letter had read, + In his heart he sigh-ed sore: + "Take up the table," anon he bade: + "For I may eat no more." + The King called his best archers + To the butts with him to go; + "I will see these fellows shoot," he said, + "That in the north have wrought this woe." + + The King-es bowmen busk them blive, + And the Queen's archers also, + So did these three wight yeomen; + With them they thought to go. + There twice or thrice they shot about, + For to assay their hand; + There was no shot these yeomen shot, + That any prick might them stand. + + Then spake William of Cloudeslie: + "By Him that for me died, + I hold him never no good archer, + That shooteth at butts so wide."-- + "Whereat, then?" said our King, + "I pray thee tell to me."-- + "At such a butt, sir," he said, + "As men use in my countree."-- + + William went into the field, + And his two brothers with him, + There they set up two hazel rods, + Twenty score paces between. + "I hold him an archer," said Cloudeslie, + "That yonder wand cleaveth in two."-- + "Here is none such," said the King, + "For no man that can so do." + + "I shall assay, sir," said Cloudeslie, + "Ere that I farther go." + Cloudeslie with a bearing arrow + Clave the wand in two. + "Thou art the best archer," said the King, + "Forsooth that ever I see."-- + "And yet for your love," said William, + "I will do more mastrie. + + "I have a son is seven year old; + He is to me full dear; + I will tie him to a stake, + All shall see him that be here, + And lay an apple upon his head, + And go six score paces him fro, + And I myself with a broad arrow + Shall cleave the apple in two."-- + + "Now haste thee, then," said the King, + "By him that died on a tree, + But if thou do not as thou hast said, + Hang-ed shalt thou be. + An thou touch his head or gown, + In sight that men may see, + By all the saints that be in heaven, + I shall you hang all three."-- + + "That I have promised," said William, + "That I will never forsake;" + And there even, before the King, + In the earth he drove a stake, + And bound thereto his eldest son, + And bade him stand still thereat, + And turn-ed the child's face him fro, + Because he should not start. + + An apple upon his head he set, + And then his bow he bent, + Six score paces they were out met, + And thither Cloudeslie went; + There he drew out a fair broad arrow; + His bow was great and long; + He set that arrow in his bow, + That was both stiff and strong. + + He prayed the people that was there, + That they would still stand: + For he that shooteth for such a wag-er + Hath need of a steady hand. + Much people prayed for Cloudeslie, + That his life saved might be; + And when he made him ready to shoot, + There was many a weeping ee. + + Thus Cloudeslie cleft the apple in two, + As many a man might see. + "Now God forbid," then said the King, + "That ever thou shoot at me! + I give thee eighteen pence a day, + And my bow shalt thou bear, + And over all the north countree + I make thee chief rid-er."-- + + "And I give thee seventeen pence a day," said the Queen, + "By God and by my fay, + Come fetch thy payment when thou wilt, + No man shall say thee nay. + William, I make thee a gentleman + Of clothing and of fee, + And thy two brethren yeomen of my chamber: + For they are seemly to see; + + "Your son, for he is tender of age, + Of my wine-cellar shall he be, + And when he cometh to man's estate, + Better preferred shall he be. + And, William, bring me your wife," said the Queen, + "Me longeth her sore to see; + She shall be my chief gentlewoman, + To govern my nursery." + + The yeomen thanked them full courteously, + And said: "To some bishop we'll wend, + Of all the sins that we have done + To be assoiled at his hand." + So forth be gone these good yeomen, + As fast as they might hie; + And after came and dwelt with the King, + And died good men all three. + + Thus ended the lives of these good yeomen, + God send them eternal bliss; + And all that with a hand-bow shooteth, + That of heaven they may never miss! + + + + +BINNORIE. + + There were two sisters sat in a bour; + Binnorie, O Binnorie! + There came a knight to be their wooer + By the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie. + + He courted the eldest with glove and ring, + But he lo'ed the youngest aboon a' thing. + + He courted the eldest with brooch and knife, + But he lo'ed the youngest aboon his life. + + The eldest she was vex-ed sair, + And sore envi-ed her sister fair. + + Upon a morning fair and clear + She cried upon her sister dear: + + "O, sister, come to yon river strand, + And see our father's ships come to land." + + She's ta'en her by the lily hand, + And led her down to the river strand. + + And as they walk-ed by the linn, + The eldest dang the youngest in. + + "O, sister, sister, reach your hand, + And ye'll be heir to a' my land!"-- + + "Foul fa' the hand that I wad take + To twin me o' my warld's make!"-- + + "O, sister, reach me but your glove, + And sweet William shall be your love!"-- + + "Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove, + And sweet William shall be my love: + + "Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hair + Garr'd me gang maiden evermair." + + She clasped her hands about a broom root, + But her cruel sister she loosed them out. + + Sometimes she sunk, and sometimes she swam, + Until she came to the miller's dam. + + The miller's daughter was baking bread, + She went for water as she had need. + + "O father, father, draw your dam! + There's either a maid or a milk-white swan!" + + The miller hasted and drew his dam, + And there he found a drowned wom-an. + + You couldna see her yellow hair + For gowd and pearls that were sae rare; + + You couldna see her middle sma', + Her gowden girdle was sae bra'. + + A famous harper passing by, + The sweet pale face he chanced to spy; + + And when he looked that ladye on, + He sighed and made a heavy moan. + + He made a harp of her breast-bone, + Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone; + + He's ta'en three locks of her yellow hair, + And wi' them strung his harp sae fair. + + He brought it to her father's hall, + And there was the court assembled all. + + He laid this harp upon a stone, + And straight it began to play alone: + + "Oh, yonder sits my father, the king, + And yonder sits my mother, the queen, + + And yonder stands my brother, Hugh, + And yonder my William, sweet and true." + + But the last tune that the harp played then + Binnorie! O Binnorie! + Was, "Wae to my sister, false Ellen, + By the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie!" + + + + +KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR-MAID. + + I read that once in Africa + A princely wight did reign, + Who had to name Cophetua, + As poets they did feign: + From nature's laws he did decline, + For sure he was not of my mind, + He car-ed not for women-kind, + But did them all disdain. + But mark what happened on a day: + As he out of his window lay, + He saw a beggar all in gray, + The which did cause his pain. + + The blinded boy, that shoots so trim, + From heaven down did hie; + He drew a dart and shot at him, + In place where he did lie: + Which soon did pierce him to the quick, + And when he felt the arrow prick, + Which in his tender heart did stick, + He looked as he would die. + "What sudden chance is this," quoth he, + "That I to love must subject be, + Which never thereto would agree, + But still did it defy?" + + Then from the window he did come, + And laid him on his bed, + A thousand heaps of care did run + Within his troubled head: + For now he means to crave her love, + And now he seeks which way to prove + How he his fancy might remove, + And not this beggar wed. + But Cupid had him so in snare, + That this poor beggar must prepare + A salve to cure him of his care, + Or else he would be dead. + + And, as he musing thus did lie, + He thought for to devise + How he might have her company, + That so did 'maze his eyes. + "In thee," quoth he, "doth rest my life; + For surely thou shalt be my wife, + Or else this hand with bloody knife + The gods shall sure suffice!" + Then from his bed he soon arose, + And to his palace gate he goes; + Full little then this beggar knows + When she the king espies. + + "The gods preserve your majesty!" + The beggars all gan cry: + "Vouchsafe to give your charity + Our children's food to buy!" + The king to them his purse did cast, + And they to part it made great haste; + This silly woman was the last + That after them did hie. + The king he called her back again, + And unto her he gave his chain; + And said, "With us thou shalt remain + Till such time as we die: + + "For thou," quoth he, "shalt be my wife, + And honoured for my queen; + With thee I mean to lead my life, + As shortly shall be seen: + Our wedding shall appointed be, + And every thing in its degree; + Come on," quoth he, "and follow me, + Thou shalt go shift thee clean. + What is thy name, fair maid?" quoth he. + "Zenelophon, O king," quoth she: + With that she made a low courts-ey, + A trim one as I ween. + + Thus hand in hand along they walk + Unto the king's pal-ace: + The king with courteous comely talk + This beggar doth embrace: + The beggar blusheth scarlet red, + And straight again as pale as lead, + But not a word at all she said, + She was in such amaze. + At last she spake with trembling voice + And said, "O king, I do rejoice + That you will take me for your choice, + And my degree's so base." + + And when the wedding day was come, + The king commanded straight + The noblemen both all and some + Upon the queen to wait. + And she behaved herself that day, + As if she had never walked the way; + She had forgot her gown of gray, + Which she did wear of late. + The proverb old is come to pass, + The priest, when he begins his mass, + Forgets that ever clerk he was; + He knoweth not his estate. + + Here you may read, Cophetua, + Though long time fancy-fed, + Compell-ed by the blinded boy + The beggar for to wed: + He that did lovers' looks disdain, + To do the same was glad and fain, + Or else he would himself have slain, + In story as we read. + Disdain no whit, O lady dear, + But pity now thy servant here, + Lest that it hap to thee this year, + As to that king it did. + + And thus they led a quiet life + During their princely reign; + And in a tomb were buried both, + As writers showeth plain. + The lords they took it grievously, + The ladies took it heavily, + The commons cri-ed piteously, + Their death to them was pain. + Their fame did sound so passingly, + That it did pierce the starry sky, + And throughout all the world did fly + To every prince's realm. + + + + +TAKE THY OLD CLOAK ABOUT THEE. + + This winter's weather it waxeth cold, + And frost doth freeze on every hill, + And Boreas blows his blasts so bold, + That all our cattle are like to spill; + Bell my wife, who loves no strife, + She said unto me quietly, + "Rise up, and save cow Crumbock's life; + Man, put thine old cloak about thee." + + He. + "O Bell, why dost thou flyte and scorn? + Thou ken'st my cloak is very thin: + It is so bare and overworn + A crick he thereon cannot renn: + Then I'll no longer borrow nor lend, + For once I'll new apparelled be, + To-morrow I'll to town and spend, + For I'll have a new cloak about me." + + She. + "Cow Crumbock is a very good cow, + She ha' been always true to the pail, + She's helped us to butter and cheese, I trow, + And other things she will not fail: + I wad be loth to see her pine, + Good husband, counsel take of me, + It is not for us to go so fine; + Man, take thine old cloak about thee." + + He. + "My cloak it was a very good cloak, + It hath been always true to the wear, + But now it is not worth a groat; + I have had it four and forty year: + Sometime it was of cloth in grain, + 'Tis now but a sigh-clout, as you may see, + It will neither hold out wind nor rain; + And I'll have a new cloak about me." + + She. + "It is four and forty years ago + Since the one of us the other did ken, + And we have had betwixt us two + Of children either nine or ten; + We have brought them up to women and men; + In the fear of God I trow they be; + And why wilt thou thyself misken? + Man, take thine old cloak about thee." + + He. + "O Bell my wife, why dost thou flout? + Now is now, and then was then: + Seek now all the world throughout, + Thou ken'st not clowns from gentlemen. + They are clad in black, green, yellow, or gray, + So far above their own degree: + Once in my life I'll do as they, + For I'll have a new cloak about me." + + She. + "King Stephen was a worthy peer, + His breeches cost him but a crown, + He held them sixpence all too dear; + Therefore he called the tailor lown. + He was a wight of high renown, + And thou's but of a low degree: + It's pride that puts this country down; + Man, take thine old cloak about thee." + + He. + Bell my wife she loves not strife, + Yet she will lead me if she can; + And oft, to live a quiet life, + I am forced to yield, though I'm good-man; + It's not for a man with a woman to threap, + Unless he first gave o'er the plea: + As we began we now will leave, + And I'll take mine old cloak about me. + + + + +WILLOW, WILLOW, WILLOW. + + A poor soul sat sighing under a sycamore tree; + "O willow, willow, willow!" + With his hand on his bosom, his head on his knee: + "O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and." + + He sighed in his singing, and after each groan, + "Come willow, willow, willow! + I am dead to all pleasure, my true-love is gone; + O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and. + + "My love she is turned; untrue she doth prove: + O willow, willow, willow! + She renders me nothing but hate for my love. + O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and. + + "O pity me," cried he, "ye lovers, each one; + O willow, willow, willow! + Her heart's hard as marble; she rues not my moan. + O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and." + + The cold streams ran by him, his eyes wept apace; + "O willow, willow, willow!" + The salt tears fell from him, which drown-ed his face: + "O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and." + + + The mute birds sat by him, made tame by his moans: + "O willow, willow, willow!" + The salt tears fell from him, which softened the stones. + "O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and. + + "Let nobody blame me, her scorns I do prove; + O willow, willow, willow! + She was born to be fair; I, to die for her love. + O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and. + + "O that beauty should harbour a heart that's so hard! + Sing willow, willow, willow! + My true love rejecting without all regard. + O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and. + + "Let love no more boast him in palace or bower; + O willow, willow, willow! + For women are trothless, and fleet in an hour. + O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and. + + "But what helps complaining? In vain I complain: + O willow, willow, willow! + I must patiently suffer her scorn and disdain. + O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and. + + "Come, all you forsaken, and sit down by me, + O willow, willow, willow! + He that plains of his false love, mine's falser than she. + O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and. + + "The willow wreath wear I, since my love did fleet; + O willow, willow, willow! + A garland for lovers forsaken most meet. + O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and." + + + + +PART THE SECOND. + + "Low laid by my sorrow, begot by disdain; + O willow, willow, willow! + Against her too cruel, still still I complain, + O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and! + + "O love too injurious, to wound my poor heart! + O willow, willow, willow! + To suffer the triumph, and joy in my smart: + O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and. + + "O willow, willow, willow! the willow garl-and, + O willow, willow, willow! + A sign of her falseness before me doth stand: + O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and. + + "As here it doth bid to despair and to die, + O willow, willow, willow! + So hang it, friends, o'er me in grave where I lie: + O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and. + + "In grave where I rest me, hang this to the view, + O willow, willow, willow! + Of all that do know her, to blaze her untrue. + O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and. + + "With these words engraven, as epitaph meet, + O willow, willow, willow! + 'Here lies one drank poison for potion most sweet,' + O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and. + + "Though she thus unkindly hath scorn-ed my love, + O willow, willow, willow! + And carelessly smiles at the sorrows I prove; + O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and. + + "I cannot against her unkindly exclaim, + O willow, willow, willow! + 'Cause once well I loved her, and honoured her name: + O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and. + + "The name of her sounded so sweet in mine ear, + O willow, willow, willow! + It raised my heart lightly, the name of my dear; + O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and. + + "As then 'twas my comfort, it now is my grief; + O willow, willow, willow! + It now brings me anguish; then brought me relief. + O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and. + + "Farewell, fair false-hearted: plaints end with my breath! + O willow, willow, willow! + Thou dost loathe me, I love thee, though cause of my death. + O willow, willow, willow! + O willow, willow, willow! + Sing, O the green willow shall be my garl-and." + + + + +THE LITTLE WEE MAN. + + As I gaed out to tak the air + Between Midmar and bonny Craigha', + There I met a little wee man, + The less o' him I never saw. + + His legs were but a finger lang, + And thick and nimble was his knee; + Between his brows there was a span, + Between his shoulders ell-es three. + + He lifted a stane sax feet in height, + He lifted it up till his right knee, + And fifty yards and mair I'm sure, + I wite he made the stane to flee. + + "O, little wee man, but ye hae power! + And O, where may your dwelling be?"-- + "I dwell beneath yon bonny bower. + O, will ye gae wi' me and see?"-- + + Sae on we lap, and awa' we rade + Till we come to yon little ha', + The kipples were o' the gude red gowd, + The roof was o' the proseyla. + + There were pipers playing in every neuk, + And ladies dancing, jimp and sma'; + And aye the owre-turn o' their tune + Was, "Our wee wee man has been long awa!" + + Out gat the lights, on cam the mist + Ladies nor mannie mair could see, + I turned about, and ga'e a look + Just at the foot o' Benachie. + + + + +THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE. AFTER THE TAKING OF CADIZ. + + Will you hear a Spanish lady, + How she wooed an Englishman? + Garments gay and rich as may be + Decked with jewels she had on. + Of a comely countenance and grace was she, + And by birth and parentage of high degree. + + As his prisoner there he kept her, + In his hands her life did lie; + Cupid's bands did tie them faster + By the liking of an eye. + In his courteous company was all her joy, + To favour him in anything she was not coy. + + But at last there came commandment + For to set the ladies free, + With their jewels still adorn-ed, + None to do them injury. + Then said this lady mild, "Full woe is me; + O let me still sustain this kind captivity! + + "Gallant captain, show some pity + To a lady in distress; + Leave me not within this city, + For to die in heaviness: + Thou hast set this present day my body free, + But my heart in prison still remains with thee." + + "How should'st thou, fair lady, love me, + Whom thou know'st thy country's foe? + Thy fair words make me suspect thee: + Serpents lie where flowers grow."-- + "All the harm I wish to thee, most courteous knight: + God grant the same upon my head may fully light. + + "Blessed be the time and season, + That ye came on Spanish ground; + If our foes ye may be term-ed, + Gentle foes we have you found: + With our city ye have won our hearts each one; + Then to your country bear away that is your own."-- + + "Rest you still, most gallant lady; + Rest you still, and weep no more; + Of fair lovers there is plenty, + Spain doth yield a wondrous store."-- + "Spaniards fraught with jealousy we often find, + But Englishmen through all the world are counted kind. + + "Leave me not unto a Spaniard, + You alone enjoy my heart; + I am lovely, young, and tender, + Love is likewise my desert: + Still to serve thee day and night my mind is prest; + The wife of every Englishman is counted blest."-- + + "It would be a shame, fair lady, + For to bear a woman hence; + English soldiers never carry + Any such without offence."-- + "I'll quickly change myself, if it be so, + And like a page I'll follow thee, where'er thou go."-- + + "I have neither gold nor silver + To maintain thee in this case, + And to travel is great charges, + As you know in every place."-- + "My chains and jewels every one shall be thy own, + And eke five hundred pounds in gold that lies unknown." + + "On the seas are many dangers; + Many storms do there arise, + Which will be to ladies dreadful, + And force tears from watery eyes."-- + "Well in troth I shall endure extremity, + For I could find in heart to lose my life for thee."-- + + "Courteous lady, leave this fancy; + Here comes all that breeds the strife. + I in England have already + A sweet woman to my wife: + I will not falsify my vow for gold nor gain, + Nor yet for all the fairest dames that live in Spain." + + "O how happy is that woman, + That enjoys so true a friend! + Many happy days God send her! + Of my suit I make an end: + On my knees I pardon crave for my offence, + Which did from love and true affection first commence. + + "Commend me to thy lovely lady. + Bear to her this chain of gold, + And these bracelets for a token; + Grieving that I was so bold: + All my jewels in like sort take thou with thee, + For they are fitting for thy wife, but not for me. + + "I will spend my days in prayer; + Love and all her laws defy; + In a nunnery will I shroud me + Far from any compan-y: + But ere my prayers have an end, be sure of this, + To pray for thee and for thy love I will not miss. + + "Thus farewell, most gallant captain! + Farewell, too, my heart's content! + Count not Spanish ladies wanton, + Though to thee my love was bent: + Joy and true prosperity go still with thee!" + "The like fall ever to thy share, most fair lad-ie!" + + + + +EDWARD, EDWARD. + + "Why does your brand sae drop wi' bluid, + Edward, Edward? + Why does your brand sae drop wi' bluid, + And why sae sad gang ye, O?"-- + "O, I ha'e kill-ed my hawk sae guid, + Mither, mither! + O, I ha'e kill-ed my hawk sae guid, + And I had nae mair but he, O."-- + "Your hawkis bluid was never sae reid, + Edward, Edward: + Your hawkis bluid was never sae reid, + My dear son, I tell thee, O."-- + + "O, I ha'e kill-ed my reid-roan steed, + Mither, mither! + O, I ha'e kill-ed my reid-roan steed + That erst was so fair and free, O."-- + "Your steed was auld, and ye ha'e got mair, + Edward, Edward: + Your steed was auld, and ye ha'e got mair, + Some other dule ye dree, O."-- + "O, I ha'e kill-ed my father dear, + Mither, mither! + O, I ha'e kill-ed my father dear, + Alas, and wae is me, O!"-- + + "And whatten pen-ance will ye dree for that, + Edward, Edward? + And whatten pen-ance will ye dree for that? + My dear son, now tell me, O!"-- + "I'll set my feet in yonder boat, + Mither, mither + I'll set my feet in yonder boat, + And I'll fare over the sea, O."-- + "And what'll ye do wi' your towers and your ha', + Edward, Edward? + And what'll ye do wi' your towers and your ha', + That were so fair to see, O?"-- + + "I'll let them stand till they down fa', + Mither, mither: + I'll let them stand till they down fa', + For here never mair maun I be, O!"-- + "And what'll ye leave to your bairns and your wife, + Edward, Edward? + And what'll ye leave to your bairns and your wife, + When ye gang over the sea, O?"-- + "The warldis room, let them beg through life, + Mither, mither: + The warldis room, let them beg through life, + For they never mair will I see, O!" + + "And what'll ye leave to your ain mother dear, + Edward, Edward? + And what'll ye leave to your ain mother dear? + My dear son, now tell me, O."-- + "The curse of hell fra me sall ye bear, + Mither, mither! + The curse of hell fra me sall ye bear,-- + Sic counsels ye gave to me, O." + + + + +ROBIN HOOD. + + Lithe and listen, gentlemen, + That be of freeborn blood; + I shall you tell of a good yeom-an, + His name was Robin Hood. + Robin was a proud outlaw, + Whil-es he walked on ground, + So curteyse an outlawe as he was one + Was never none yfound. + Robin stood in Barnysdale, + And leaned him to a tree, + And by h-im stood Little John, + A good yeom-an was he; + And also did good Scath-elock, + And Much the miller's son; + There was no inch of his bod-y, + But it was worth a groom. + + Then bespake him Little John + All unto Robin Hood, + "Master, if ye would dine betime, + It would do you much good." + + Then bespak-e good Rob-in, + "To dine I have no lust, + Till I have some bold bar-on, + Or some unketh gest, + That may pay for the best; + Or some knight or some squy-ere + That dwelleth here by west." + + A good mann-er then had Robin + In land where that he were, + Every day ere he would dine + Three masses would he hear: + The one in the worship of the Father, + The other of the Holy Ghost, + The third was of our dear Lady, + That he loved of all other most. + + Robin loved our dear Lad-y, + For dout of deadly sin; + Would he never do company harm + That any woman was in. + + "Master," then said Little John, + "An we our board shall spread, + Tell us whither we shall gon, + And what life we shall lead; + Where we shall take, where we shall leave, + Where we shall bide behind, + Where we shall rob, where we shall reve, + Where we shall beat and bind." + + "Thereof no force," then said Rob-in, + "We shall do well enow; + But look ye do no housbonde harm + That tilleth with his plow; + No more ye shall no good yeoman, + That walk'th by green wood shaw, + Ne no knight, ne no squy-er, + That would be a good fel-aw. + These bishops, and these archbishops, + Ye shall them beat and bind; + The high sheriff of Nottingham, + Him hold in your mind." + + "This word shall be holde," said Little John, + "And this lesson shall we lere; + It is ferr-e days, God send us a geste, + That we were at our dinere!" + + "Take thy good bow in thy hand," said Robin, + "Let Much wend-e with thee, + And so shall William Scath-elock, + And no man abide with me: + And walk up to the Sa-yl-es, + And so to Watling Street, + And wait after some unketh gest, + Up-chance ye mowe them meet. + Be he earl or any bar-on, + Abb-ot or any knight, + Bring him to lodge to me, + His dinner shall be dight." + + They went unto the Sa-yl-es, + These yeomen all three, + They look-ed east, they look-ed west, + They might-e no man see. + But as they looked in Barnisdale, + By a dern-e street, + Then came th-ere a knight rid-ing, + Full soon they gan him meet. + All drear-y was his semblaunce, + And little was his pride, + His one foot in the stirrup stood, + That other waved beside. + His hood hanging over his eyen two, + He rode in simple array; + A sorrier man than he was one + Rode never in summer's day. + + Little John was full curt-eyse, + And set him on his knee: + "Welcome be ye, gentle knight, + Welc-ome are ye to me, + Welcome be thou to green wood, + Hende knight and free; + My master hath abiden you fast-ing, + Sir, all these hour-es three." + + "Who is your master?" said the knight. + + John said, "Robin Hood." + + "He is a good yeoman," said the knight, + "Of him I have heard much good. + I grant," he said, "with you to wend, + My brethren all in-fere; + My purpose was to have dined to-day + At Blyth or Doncastere." + + Forth then went this gentle knight, + With a careful cheer, + The tears out of his eyen ran, + And fell down by his lere. + They brought him unto the lodge door, + When Robin gan him see, + Full curteysly he did off his hood, + And set him on his knee. + + "Welc-ome, sir knight," then said Rob-in, + "Welc-ome thou art to me; + I have abiden you fasting, sir, + All these hour-es three." + + Then answered the gentle knight, + With word-es fair and free, + "God thee sav-e, good Rob-in, + And all thy fair meyn-e." + + They washed together and wip-ed both, + And set to their dinere; + Bread and wine they had enough, + And numbles of the deer; + Swans and pheasants they had full good, + And fowls of the rivere; + There fail-ed never so little a bird, + That ever was bred on brere. + + "Do gladly, sir knight," said Rob-in. + + "Gram-ercy, sir," said he, + "Such a dinner had I not + Of all these week-es three; + If I come again, Rob-in, + Here b-y this countr-e, + As good a dinner I shall thee make, + As thou hast made to me." + + "Gramerc-y, knight," said Rob-in, + "My dinner when I have; + I was never so greedy, by dere-worthy God, + My dinner for to crave. + But pay ere ye wend," said Rob-in, + "Me thinketh it is good right; + It was never the manner, by dere-worthy God, + A yeoman to pay for a knight." + + "I have nought in my coffers," said the knight, + "That I may proffer for shame." + + "Little John, go look," said Robin, + "Ne let not for no blame. + Tell me truth," then said Rob-in, + "So God have part of thee." + + "I have no more but ten shillings," said the knight, + "So God have part of me!" + + "If thou have no more," said Rob-in, + "I will not one penn-y; + And if thou have need of any more, + More shall I lend thee. + Go now forth, Little John, + The truth tell thou me, + If there be no more but ten shillings + No penny of that I see." + + Little John spread down his mantle + Full fair upon the ground, + And there he found in the knight's coff-er + But even half a pound. + Little John let it lie full still, + And went to his master full low. + + "What tiding-e, John?" said Rob-in. + + "Sir, the knight is true enow." + + "Fill of the best wine," said Rob-in, + "The knight shall begin; + Much wonder thinketh me + Thy clothing is so thin. + Tell me one word," said Rob-in, + "And counsel shall it be; + I trow thou were made a knight of force, + Or else of yeomanry; + Or else thou hast been a sorry housband + And lived in stroke and strife; + An okerer, or lechour," said Rob-in, + "With wrong hast thou led thy life." + + "I am none of them," said the knight, + "By him that mad-e me; + An hundred winter here before, + Mine aunsetters knights have be. + But oft it hath befal, Rob-in, + A man hath be disgrate; + But God that sitteth in heaven above + May amend his state. + Within two or three year, Robin," he said, + "My neighbours well it kend, + Four hundred pound of good mon-ey + Full well then might I spend. + Now have I no good," said the knight, + "But my children and my wife; + God hath shapen such an end, + Till he it may amend." + + "In what manner," said Rob-in, + "Hast thou lore thy rich-esse?" + + "For my great folly," he said, + "And for my kind-enesse. + I had a son, for sooth, Rob-in, + That should have been my heir, + When he was twenty winter old, + In field would joust full fair; + He slew a knight of Lancashire, + And a squyer bold; + For to save him in his right + My goods beth set and sold; + My lands beth set to wed, Rob-in, + Until a certain day, + To a rich abbot here beside, + Of Saint Mar-y abbay." + + "What is the summ-e?" said Rob-in, + "Truth then tell thou me." + + "Sir," he said, "four hundred pound, + The abb-ot told it to me." + + "Now, an thou lose thy land," said Robin, + "What shall fall of thee?" + + "Hastily I will me busk," said the knight, + "Over the salt-e sea, + And see where Christ was quick and dead, + On the mount of Calvar-y. + Fare well, friend, and have good day, + It may no better be"-- + + Tears fell out of his eyen two, + He would have gone his way-- + "Fare well, friends, and have good day, + I ne have more to pay." + + "Where be thy friends?" said Rob-in. + + "Sir, never one will me know; + While I was rich enow at home + Great boast then would they blow, + And now they run away from me, + As beast-es on a row; + They take no more heed of me + Than they me never saw." + + For ruth-e then wept Little John, + Scathelocke and Much also. + "Fill of the best wine," said Rob-in, + "For here is a simple cheer. + Hast thou any friends," said Robin, + "Thy borowes that will be?" + + "I have none," then said the knight, + "But him that died on a tree." + + "Do way thy jap-es!" said Rob-in, + "Thereof will I right none; + Weenest thou I will have God to borowe? + Peter, Paul, or John? + Nay, by him that me made, + And shope both sun and moon, + Find a better borowe," said Robin, + "Or money gettest thou none." + + "I have none other," said the knight, + "The sooth for to say, + But if it be our dear Lad-y, + She failed me ne'er ere this day." + + "By dere-worthy God," then said Rob-in, + "To seek all England thorowe, + Yet found I never to my pay, + A much better borowe. + Come now forth, Little John, + And go to my treasur-y, + And bring me fo-ur hundred pound, + And look that it well told be." + + Forth then went Little John, + And Scathelock went before, + He told out fo-ur hundred pound, + By eighteen-e score. + + "Is this well told?" said Little Much. + + John said, "What grieveth thee? + It is alms to help a gentle knight + That is fall in povert-y. + Master," then said Little John, + "His clothing is full thin, + Ye must give the knight a liver-ay, + To wrap his bod-y therein. + For ye have scarl-et and green, mast-er, + And many a rich array, + There is no merch-ant in merry Engl-and + So rich, I dare well say." + + "Take him three yards of every colo-ur, + And look that well mete it be." + + Little John took none other meas-ure + But his bow-e tree, + And of every handfull that he met + He leapt ouer foot-es three. + + "What devilkyns draper," said Little Much, + "Thinkest thou to be?" + + Scathelock stood full still and lough, + And said, "By God allmight, + John may give him the better meas-ure, + For it cost him but light." + + "Master," then said Little John, + All unto Robin Hood, + "Ye must give that knight an horse, + To lead home all this good." + + "Take him a gray cours-er," said Robin, + "And a saddle new; + He is our Lady's messengere, + God lend that he be true!" + + "And a good palfr-ey," said Little Much, + "To maintain him in his right." + + "And a pair of boots," said Scath-elock, + "For he is a gentle knight." + + "What shalt thou give him, Little John?" said Robin. + + "Sir, a paire of gilt spurs clene, + To pray for all this company: + God bringe him out of tene!" + + "When shall my day be," said the knight, + "Sir, an your will be?" + + "This day twelve month," said Rob-in, + "Under this green wood tree. + It were great sham-e," said Rob-in, + "A knight alone to ride, + Without squy-er, yeoman or page, + To walk-e by his side. + I shall thee lend Little Johan my man, + For he shall be thy knave; + In a yeoman's stead he may thee stand + If thou great need have." + + + + +THE SECONDE FYTTE. + + Now is the knight went on his way, + This game he thought full good, + When he looked on Barnisdale, + He bless-ed Robin Hood; + And when he thought on Barnisdale + On Scathelock, Much, and John, + He blessed them for the best compan-y + That ever he in come. + + Then spake that gentle knight, + To Little John gan he say, + "To-morrow I must to York town, + To Saint Mar-y abbay; + And to the abbot of that place + Four hundred pound I must pay: + And but I be there upon this night + My land is lost for aye." + + The abbot said to his conv-ent, + There he stood on ground, + "This day twelve month came there a knight + And borrowed four hundred pound + Upon all his land free, + But he come this ilk-e day + Disherited shall he be." + + "It is full early," said the prior, + "The day is not yet far gone, + I had liever to pay an hundred pound, + And lay it down anone. + The knight is far beyond the sea, + In England is his right, + And suffereth hung-er and cold + And many a sorry night: + It were great pity," said the prior, + "So to have his lond; + An ye be so light of your consci-ence, + Ye do to him much is wrong." + + "Thou art ever in my beard," said the abb-ot, + "By God and Saint Rich-ard!" + + With that came in a fat-headed monk, + The high cellarer; + "He is dead or hang-ed," said the monk, + "By him that bought me dear, + And we shall have to spend in this place + Four hundred pound by year." + + The abbot and the high cellarer, + Stert-e forth full bold. + + The high justice of Englond + The abb-ot there did hold; + The high just-ice and many mo + Had take into their hond + Wholly all the knight-es debt, + To put that knight to wrong. + They deemed the knight wonder sore, + The abb-ot and his meyn-e: + "But he come this ilk-e day + Disherited shall he be." + + "He will not come yet," said the just-ice, + "I dare well undertake." + + But in sorrow-e tim-e for them all + The knight came to the gate. + Then bespake that gentle knight + Unto his meyn-e, + "Now put on your simple weeds + That ye brought from the sea." + And cam-e to the gates anone, + The porter was ready himself, + And welcom-ed them every one. + + "Welc-ome, sir knyght," said the port-er, + "My lord to meat is he, + And so is many a gentle man, + For the love of thee." + The porter swore a full great oath, + "By him that mad-e me, + Here be the best cores-ed horse + That ever yet saw I me. + Lead them into the stable," he said, + "That eas-ed might they be." + + "They shall not come therein," said the knight, + "By him that died on a tree." + + Lord-es were to meat iset + In that abb-ot-es hall, + The knight went forth and kneel-ed down, + And salved them great and small. + "Do gladly, sir abb-ot," said the knight, + "I am come to hold my day." + + The first word the abbot spake, + "Hast th-ou brought m-y pay?" + + "Not one penny," said the knight, + "By him that mak-ed me." + + "Thou art a shrewd debtor!" said the abb-ot; + "Sir justice, drink to me! + What dost thou here," said the abb-ot, + "But thou hadst brought thy pay?" + + "For-e God," then said the knight, + "To pray of a longer day." + + "Thy day is broke," said the justice, + "Land gettest thou none." + + "Now, good sir justice, be my friend, + And fend me of my fone." + + "I am hold with the abbot," said the justice, + "Both with cloth and fee." + + "Now, good sir sheriff, be my friend." + + "Nay, for-e God," said he. + + "Now, good sir abbot, be my friend, + For thy curteys-e, + And hold my land-es in thy hand + Till I have made thee gree; + And I will be thy true serv-ant, + And truly serv-e thee, + Till ye have fo-ur hundred pound + Of money good and free." + + The abbot sware a full great oath, + "By him that died on a tree, + Get the land where thou may, + For thou gettest none of me." + + "By dere-worthy God," then said the knight, + "That all this world wrought, + But I have my land again, + Full dear it shall be bought; + God, that was of a maiden borne, + Lene us well to speed! + For it is good to assay a friend + Ere that a man have need." + + The abb-ot loathl-y on him gan look, + And villainousl-y gan call; + "Out," he said, "thou fals-e knight! + Speed thee out of my hall!" + + "Thou liest," then said the gentle knight, + "Abbot in thy hall; + Fals-e knight was I nev-er, + By him that made us all." + + Up then stood that gentle knight, + To the abb-ot said he, + "To suffer a knight to kneel so long, + Thou canst no courtes-y. + In joust-es and in tournem-ent + Full far then have I be, + And put myself as far in press + As any that e'er I see." + + "What will ye give more?" said the just-ice, + "And the knight shall make a release; + And ell-es dare I safely swear + Ye hold never your land in peace." + + "An hundred pound," said the abb-ot. + + The justice said, "Give him two." + + "Na-y, by God," said the knight, + "Yet get ye it not so: + Though ye would give a thousand more, + Yet were thou never the nere; + Shall there never be mine heir, + Abb-ot, just-ice, ne frere." + + He stert him to a board anon, + To a table round, + And there he shook out of a bag + Even fo-ur hundred pound. + + "Have here thy gold, sir abb-ot," said the knight, + "Which that thou lentest me; + Haddest thou been curteys at my com-ing, + Rewarded shouldst thou have be." + The abb-ot sat still, and ate no more. + For all his royal cheer, + He cast his hood on his should-er, + And fast began to stare. + "Take me my gold again," said the abb-ot, + "Sir just-ice, that I took thee." + + "Not a penny," said the just-ice, + "By him that died on a tree." + + "Sir abbot, and ye men of law, + Now have I held my day, + Now shall I have my land again, + For aught that you can say." + The knight stert out of the door, + Away was all his care, + And on he put his good cloth-ing, + The other he left there. + He went him forth full merry sing-ing, + As men have told in tale, + His lady met him at the gate, + At home in Uterysdale. + + "Welc-ome, my lord," said his lady; + "Sir, lost is all your good?" + + "Be merry, dam-e," said the knight, + "And pray for Robin Hood, + That ever his soul-e be in bliss, + He holp me out of my tene; + Ne had not be his kind-enesse, + Beggars had we been. + The abb-ot and I accorded ben, + He is served of his pay, + The good yeoman lent it me, + As I came by the way." + + This knight then dwell-ed fair at home, + The sooth for to say, + Till he had got four hundred pound, + All ready for to pay. + He p-urveyed him an hundred bows, + The string-es well ydight, + An hundred sheaf of arrows good, + The heads burn-ished full bright, + And every arrow an ell-e long, + With peacock well ydight, + I-nock-ed all with white silv-er, + It was a seemly sight. + He p-urveyed him an hundred men, + Well harneysed in that stead, + And h-imself in that sam-e set, + And clothed in white and red. + He bare a launsgay in his hand, + And a man led his male, + And ridden with a light song, + Unto Barnisdale. + + As he went at a bridge there was a wresteling, + And there tarried was he, + And there was all the best yeom-en + Of all the west countree. + A full fair game there was upset, + A white bull up i-pight; + A great cours-er with saddle and bridle, + With gold burn-ished full bright; + A pair of gloves, a red gold ring, + A pipe of wine, in good fay: + What man beareth him best, i-wis, + The prize shall bear away. + + There was a yeoman in that place, + And best worth-y was he. + And for he was ferre and fremd bestad, + I-slain he should have be. + The knight had ruth of this yeom-an, + In place where that he stood, + He said that yeoman should have no harm, + For love of Robin Hood. + The knight press-ed into the place, + An hundred followed him free, + With bow-es bent, and arrows sharp, + For to shend that company. + + They shouldered all, and made him room, + To wete what he would say, + He took the yeoman by the hand, + And gave him all the play; + He gave him five mark for his wine, + There it lay on the mould, + And bade it should be set abroach, + Drink-e who so would. + Thus long tarried this gentle knight, + Till that play was done, + So long abode Rob-in fasting, + Three hours after the none. + + + + +THE THYRDE FYTTE. + + Lithe and listen, gentle men, + All that now be here, + Of Little John, that was the knight's man, + Good mirth ye shall hear. + + It was upon a merry day, + That young men would go shete, + Little John fet his bow anon, + And said he would them meet. + Three times Little John shot about, + And always cleft the wand, + The proud sher-iff of Nottingham + By the marks gan stand. + The sheriff swore a full great oath, + "By him that died on a tree, + This man is the best arch-er + That ever yet saw I me. + Sa-y me now, wight young man, + What is now thy name? + In what country were thou born, + And where is thy wonning wan?" + + "In Hold-ernesse I was bore, + I-wis all of my dame, + Men call me Reynold Greenleaf, + Whan I am at hame." + + "Say me, Reynold Greenleaf, + Wilt thou dwell with me? + And every year I will thee give + Twent-y mark to thy fee." + + "I have a master," said Little John, + "A curteys knight is he, + Ma-y ye get leave of him, + The better may it be." + + The sher-iff gat Little John + Twelve months of the knight, + Theref-ore he gave him right anon + A good horse and a wight. + + Now is Little John the sheriff's man, + He give us well to speed, + But alw-ay thought Little John + To quite him well his meed. + "Now so God me help," said Little John, + "And by my true lewt-e, + I sh-all be the worst serv-ant to him + That ever yet had he!" + + It befell upon a Wednesday, + The sheriff a-hunting was gone, + And Little John lay in his bed, + And was forgot at home. + Therefore he was fast-ing + Till it was past the none. + "Good sir Steward, I pray thee, + Give me to dine," said Little John; + "It is too long for Greenleaf, + Fast-ing so long to be; + Therefore I pray thee, stew-ard, + My dinner give thou me!" + + "Shalt thou never eat ne drink," said the stew-ard, + "Till my lord be come to town." + + "I make mine avow," said Little John, + "I had liever to crack thy crown!" + + The butler was full uncurteys, + There he stood on floor, + He stert to the buttery, + And shut fast the door. + Little John gave the butler such a stroke + His back yede nigh in two, + Though he lived an hundred winter, + The worse he should-e go. + He spurned the door with his foot, + It went up well and fine, + And there he made a large liveray + Both of ale and wine. + "Sith ye will not dine," said Little John, + "I shall give you to drink, + And though ye live an hundred winter, + On Little John ye shall think!" + Little John ate, and Little John drank, + The whil-e that he would. + The sheriff had in his kitchen a cook, + A stout man and a bold. + + "I make mine avow to God," said the cook, + "Thou art a shrewd-e hind, + In an household to dwell, + For to ask thus to dine." + And there he lent Little John, + Good strok-es three. + + "I make mine avow," said Little John, + "These strok-es liketh well me. + Thou art a bold man and an hardy, + And so thinketh me; + And ere I pass from this place, + Assayed better shalt thou be." + + Little John drew a good sword, + The cook took another in hand; + They thought nothing for to flee, + But stiffly for to stand. + There they fought sor-e together, + Two mile way and more, + Might neither other harm don, + The mountenance of an hour. + "I make mine avow," said Little John, + "And by my true lewt-e, + Thou art one of the best swordmen + That ever yet saw I me. + Couldest thou shoot as well in a bow, + To green wood thou shouldest with me, + And two times in the year thy clothing + I-changed should-e be; + And every year of Robin Hood + Twent-y mark to thy fee." + + "Put up thy sword," said the cook, + "And fellows will we be." + + Then he fet to Little John + The numbles of a doe, + Good bread and full good wine, + They ate and drank thereto. + And when they had drunken well, + Their troths together they plight, + That they would be with Rob-in + That ilke same day at night. + They hied them to the treasure-house, + As fast as they might gone, + The locks that were of good steel + They brake them every one; + They took away the silver vessel, + And all that they might get, + Pi-eces, mas-ars, and spoons, + Would they none forget; + Also they took the good pence, + Three hundred pound and three; + And did them straight to Robin Hood, + Under the green wood tree. + + "God thee save, my dear mast-er, + And Christ thee save and see." + + And then said Rob-in to Little John, + "Welcome might thou be; + And also be that fair yeom-an + Thou bringest there with thee. + What tiding-es from Nottingham? + Little John, tell thou me." + + "Well thee greeteth the proud sher-iff, + And sendeth thee here by me, + His cook and his silv-er vessel, + And three hundred pound and three." + + "I make mine avow to God," said Robin, + "And to the Trinit-y, + It was never by his good will, + This good is come to me." + + Little John him there bethought, + On a shrewed wile, + Five mile in the for-est he ran, + Him happ-ed at his will; + Then be met the proud sher-iff, + Hunt-ing with hound and horn, + Little John coud his curteysye, + And kneel-ed him beforn: + "God thee save, my dear mast-er, + And Christ thee save and see." + + "Raynold Greenleaf," said the sher-iff, + "Where hast thou now be?" + + "I have be in this for-est, + A fair sight can I see, + It was one of the fairest sights + That ever yet saw I me; + Yonder I see a right fair hart, + His colour is of green, + Seven score of deer upon an herd, + Be with him all bedene; + His tynde are so sharp, mast-er, + Of sixty and well mo, + That I durst not shoot for drede + Lest they wold me slo." + + "I make mine avow to God," said the sheriff, + "That sight would I fain see." + + "Busk you thitherward, my dear mast-er, + Anon, and wend with me." + + The sheriff rode, and Little John + Of foot he was full smart, + And when they came afore Robin: + "Lo, here is the master hart!" + + Still stood the proud sher-iff, + A sorry man was he: + "Wo worth thee, Raynold Greenleaf! + Thou hast now betray-ed me." + + "I make mine avow," said Little John, + "Mast-er, ye be to blame, + I was misserved of my dinere, + When I was with you at hame." + + Soon he was to supper set, + And served with silver white; + And when the sher-iff see his vess-el, + For sorrow he might not eat. + "Make good cheer," said Robin Hood, + "Sher-iff, for charit-y, + And for the love of Little John; + Thy life is granted to thee." + + When they had supp-ed well, + The day was all agone, + Robin commanded Little John + To draw off his hosen and his shone, + His kirtle and his coat a pye, + That was furr-ed well fine, + And take him a green mant-ell, + To lap his body therein. + Robin commanded his wight young men, + Under the green wood tree, + They shall lie in that same sort, + That the sheriff might them see. + All night lay that proud sher-iff + In his breche and in his sherte, + No wonder it was, in green wood, + Though his sides do smerte. + "Make glad cheer," said Robin Hood, + "Sher-iff, for charit-e, + For this is our ord-er i-wis, + Under the green wood tree." + + "This is harder order," said the sheriff, + "Than any anker or frere; + For all the gold in merry Engl-and + I would not long dwell here." + + "All these twelve months," said Rob-in, + "Thou shalt dwell with me; + I shall thee teach, thou proud sher-iff, + An outlaw for to be." + + "Ere I here another night lie," said the sheriff, + "Robin, now I pray thee, + Smite off my head rather to-morn, + And I forgive it thee. + Let me go," then said the sher-iff, + "For saint Charit-e, + And I will be thy best friend + That ever yet had thee." + + "Thou shalt swear me an oath," said Robin, + "On my bright brand, + Thou shalt never awayte me scathe, + By water ne by land; + And if thou find any of my men, + By night or by day, + Upon thine oath thou shalt swear, + To help them that thou may." + + Now hath the sheriff i-swore his oath, + And home he gan to gone, + He was as full of green wood + As ever was heap of stone. + + + + +THE FOURTH FYTTE. + + The sheriff dwelled in Nottingham, + He was fain that he was gone, + And Robin and his merry men + Went to wood anone. + + "Go we to dinner," said Little John. + Robin Hood said, "Nay; + For I dread Our Lady be wroth with me, + For she sent me not my pay." + + "Have no doubt, master," said Little John, + "Yet is not the sun at rest, + For I dare say, and safely sware, + The knight is true and trust." + + "Take thy bow in thy hand," said Robin, + "Let Much wende with thee, + And so shall William Scathelock, + And no man abide with me, + And walk up into the Sa-yl-es, + And to Watling Street, + And wait after such unketh gest, + Up-chance ye may them meet. + Whether he be messeng-er, + Or a man that mirth-es can, + Or if he be a poor man, + Of my good he shall have some." + + Forth then stert Little John, + Half in tray and teen, + And girded him with a full good sword, + Under a mantle of green. + They went up to the Sa-yl-es, + These yeomen all three; + They look-ed east, they look-ed west, + They might no man see. + But as he looked in Barnisdale, + By the high way, + Then were they ware of two black monks, + Each on a good palfray. + + Then bespak-e Little John, + To Much he gan say, + "I dare lay my life to wed, + That these monks have brought our pay. + Make glad cheer," said Little John, + "And frese our bows of yew, + And look your hearts be sicker and sad, + Your strings trust-y and true. + The monk hath fifty-two men, + And seven som-ers full strong, + There rideth no bishop in this land + So royally, I understond. + Brethren," said Little John, + "Here are no more but we three; + But we bring them to dinn-er, + Our master dare we not see. + Bend your bows," said Little John, + "Make all yon press to stand! + The foremost monk, his life and his death + Is clos-ed in my hand! + Abide, churl monk," said Little John, + "No farther that thou gone; + If thou dost, by dere-worthy God, + Thy death is in my hond. + And evil thrift on thy head," said Little John, + "Right under thy hat's bond, + For thou hast made our master wroth, + He is fast-ing so long." + + "Who is your master?" said the monk. + + Little John said, "Robin Hood." + + "He is a strong thief," said the monk, + "Of him heard I never good." + + "Thou liest!" then said Little John, + "And that shall rew-e thee; + He is a yeoman of the for-est, + To dine hath bod-e thee." + Much was ready with a bolt, + Redly and anon, + He set the monk tofore the breast, + To the ground that he can gon. + Of fifty-two wight young men, + There abode not one, + Save a little page, and a groom + To lead the somers with Little John. + + They brought the monk to the lodge door, + Whether he were loth or lief, + For to speak with Robin Hood, + Maugr-e in their teeth. + Robin did adown his hood, + The monk when that he see; + The monk was not so courteyous, + His hood then let he be. + + "He is a churl, master, by dere-worthy God," + Then said Little John. + + "Thereof no force," said Rob-in, + "For courtesy can he none. + How man-y men," said Rob-in, + "Had this monk, John?" + + "Fifty and two when that we met, + But many of them be gone." + + "Let blow a horn," said Robin, + "That fellowship may us know." + + Seven score of wight yeomen, + Came pricking on a row, + And everich of them a good mant-ell, + Of scarlet and of ray, + All they came to good Rob-in, + To wite what he would say. + They made the monk to wash and wipe, + And sit at his dinere, + Robin Hood and Little John + They served them both infere. + "Do gladly, monk," said Robin. + "Gram-ercy, sir," said he. + "Where is your abbey, whan ye are at home, + And who is your avow-e?" + + "Saint Mary abbey," said the monk, + "Though I be simple here." + "In what offic-e?" said Rob-in. + "Sir, the high cellarer." + "Ye be the more welcome," said Rob-in, + "So ever mote I thee. + Fill of the best wine," said Rob-in, + "This monk shall drink to me. + But I have great marvel," said Rob-in, + "Of all this long-e day, + I dread Our Lady be wroth with me, + She sent me not my pay." + + "Have no doubt, master," said Little John, + "Ye have no need I say, + This monk it hath brought, I dare well swear, + For he is of her abbay." + + "And she was a borow," said Robin, + "Between a knight and me, + Of a little money that I him lent, + Under the green wood tree; + And if thou hast that silver i-brought, + I pray thee let me see, + And I shall help thee eftsoons, + If thou have need of me." + + The monk swore a full great oath, + With a sorry cheer, + "Of the borowhood thou speakest to me, + Heard I never ere!" + + "I make mine avow to God," said Robin, + "Monk, thou art to blame, + For God is hold a righteous man, + And so is his dame. + Thou toldest with thine own tongue, + Thou may not say nay, + How that thou art her serv-ant + And servest her every day, + And thou art made her messenger, + My money for to pay, + Therefore I con thee more thank, + Thou art come at thy day. + What is in your coffers?" said Robin, + "True then tell thou me." + "Sir," he said, "twenty mark, + All so mote I thee." + + "If there be no more," said Robin, + "I will not one penny; + If thou hast mister of any more, + Sir, more I shall lend to thee; + And if I find more," said Robin, + "I-wis thou shalt it forgone; + For of thy spending silver, monk, + Thereof will I right none. + Go now forth, Little John, + And the truth tell thou me; + If there be no more but twenty mark, + No penny of that I see." + + Little John spread his mantle down, + As he had done before, + And he told out of the monk-es mail, + Eight hundred pound and more. + Little John let it lie full still, + And went to his master in haste; + "Sir," he said, "the monk is true enow, + Our lady hath doubled your cost." + + "I make mine avow to God," said Robin, + "Monk, what told I thee? + Our Lady is the truest woman, + That ever yet found I me. + By dere-worthy God," said Robin, + "To seek all England thorowe, + Yet found I never to my pay + A much better borowe. + Fill of the best wine, do him drink," said Robin; + "And greet well thy Lady hend, + And if she have need of Robin Hood, + A friend she shall him find; + And if she needeth any more silv-er, + Come thou again to me, + And, by this token she hath me sent, + She shall have such three!" + + The monk was going to London ward, + There to hold great mote, + The knight that rode so high on horse, + To bring him under foot. + + "Whither be ye away?" said Robin. + + "Sir, to manors in this lond, + To reckon with our rev-es, + That have done much wrong." + + "Come now forth, Little John, + And hearken to my tale, + A better yeoman I know none, + To search a monk-es mail. + How much is in yonder other courser?" said Robin, + "The sooth must we see." + + "By our Lady," then said the monk, + "That were no courtes-y + To bid a man to dinner, + And sith him beat and bind." + + "It is our old manner," said Rob-in, + "To leave but little behind." + + The monk took the horse with spur, + No longer would he abide. + + "Ask to drink," then said Rob-in, + "Ere that ye further ride." + + "Nay, fore God," then said the monk, + "Me reweth I came so near, + For better cheap I might have dined, + In Blyth or in Doncastere." + + "Greet well your abbot," said Rob-in, + "And your prior, I you pray, + And bid him send me such a monk + To dinner every day!" + + Now let we that monk be still, + And speak we of that knight, + Yet he came to hold his day + While that it was light. + He did him straight to Barnisdale, + Under the green wood tree, + And he found there Robin Hood, + And all his merry meyn-e. + The knight light downe of his good palfr-ey, + Rob-in when he gan see. + So courteysly he did adown his hood, + And set him on his knee. + + "God thee save, good Robin Hood, + And all this company." + + "Welcome be thou, gentle knight, + And right welc-ome to me." + Then bespake him Robin Hood, + To that knight so free, + "What need driveth thee to green wood? + I pray thee, sir knight, tell me. + And welcome be thou, gentle knight, + Why hast thou be so long?" + + "For the abbot and the high justice + Would have had my lond." + + "Hast thou thy land again?" said Robin, + "Truth then tell thou me." + + "Yea, fore God," said the knight, + "And that thank I God and thee. + But take not a grief," said the knight, + "That I have been so long; + I came by a wresteling, + And there I did help a poor yeom-an, + With wrong was put behind." + + "Nay, fore God," said Rob-in, + "Sir knight, that thank I thee; + What man that helpeth a good yeom-an, + His friend then will I be." + + "Have here four hundred pound," then said the knight, + "The which ye lent to me; + And here is also twenty mark + For your courtes-y." + + "Nay, fore God," then said Robin, + "Thou brook it well for aye, + For our Lady, by her cellarer, + Hath sent to me my pay; + And if I took it twice, + A shame it were to me: + But truly, gentle knight, + Welc-ome art thou to me." + + When Rob-in had told his tale, + He laughed and had good cheer. + "By my troth," then said the knight, + "Your money is ready here." + + "Brook it well," said Rob-in, + "Thou gentle knight so free; + And welcome be thou, gentle knight, + Under my trystell tree. + But what shall these bows do?" said Robin, + "And these arrows i-feathered free?" + + "It is," then said the knight, + "A poor pres-ent to thee." + + "Come now forth, Little John, + And go to my treasur-y, + And bring me there four hundred pound, + The monk over-told it to me. + Have here four hundred pound, + Thou gentle knight and true, + And buy horse and harness good, + And gild thy spurs all new: + And if thou fail an-y spend-ing, + Come to Robin Hood, + And by my troth thou shalt none fail + The whiles I have any good. + And brook well thy four hundred pound, + Which I lent to thee, + And make thyself no more so bare, + By the counsel of me." + + Thus then holp him good Rob-in, + The knight of all his care. + God, that sitteth in heaven high, + Grant us well to fare. + + + + +THE FIFTH FYTTE. + + Now hath the knight his leave i-take, + And went him on his way; + Robin Hood and his merry men + Dwelled still full many a day. + Lithe and listen, gentle men, + And hearken what I shall say, + How the proud sheriff of Nottingham + Did cry a full fair play; + That all the best archers of the north + Should come upon a day, + And they that shoot all of the best + The game shall bear away. + + 'He that shooteth all of the best + Furthest fair and law, + At a pair of fynly butts, + Under the green wood shaw, + A right good arrow he shall have, + The shaft of silver white, + The head and the feathers of rich red gold, + In England is none like.' + + This then heard good Rob-in, + Under his trystell tree: + "Make you ready, ye wight young men, + That shooting will I see. + Busk you, my merr-y young men, + Ye shall go with me; + And I will wete the sheriff's faith, + True an if he be." + + When they had their bows i-bent, + Their tackles feathered free, + Seven score of wight young men + Stood by Robin's knee. + When they came to Nottingham, + The butts were fair and long, + Many was the bold arch-er + That shooted with bow-es strong. + + "There shall but six shoot with me, + The other shall keep my head, + And stand with good bow-es bent + That I be not deceived." + + The fourth outlaw his bow gan bend, + And that was Robin Hood, + And that beheld the proud sher-iff, + All by the butt he stood. + Thri-es Robin shot about, + And alway he cleft the wand, + And so did good Gilbert, + With the whit-e hand. + Little John and good Scathelock + Were archers good and free; + Little Much and good Reynold, + The worst would they not be. + When they had shot about, + These archers fair and good, + Evermore was the best, + For sooth, Robin Hood. + Him was delivered the good arr-ow, + For best worthy was he; + He took the gift so courteysly + To green wood wold-e he. + + They cri-ed out on Robin Hood, + And great horns gan they blow. + "Wo worth thee! treason!" said Rob-in, + "Full evil thou art to know! + And woe be thou, thou proud sher-iff, + Thus gladding thy guest, + Otherwise thou behot-e me + In yonder wild for-est; + But had I thee in green wood, + Under my trystell tree, + Thou shouldest leave me a better wed + Than thy true lewt-e." + + Full many a bow there was bent, + And arrows let they glide, + Many a kirtle there was rent, + And hurt man-y a side. + The outlaw-es shot was so strong, + That no man might them drive, + And the proud sherif-es men + They fled away full blive. + Robin saw the busshement to-broke, + In green wood he would have be, + Many an arrow there was shot + Among that company. + Little John was hurt full sore, + With an arrow in his knee, + That he might neither go nor ride: + It was full great pit-e. + + "Master," then said Little John, + "If ever thou lovest me, + And for that ilk-e Lord-es love, + That died upon a tree, + And for the meeds of my serv-ice, + That I have serv-ed thee, + Let nev-er the proud sher-iff + Aliv-e now find me; + But take out thy brown sword, + And smite all off my head, + And give me wound-es dead and wide, + That I after eat no bread." + + "I wold-e not that," said Rob-in, + "John, that thou wer-e slawe, + For all the gold in merry England, + Though it lay now on a rawe." + + "God forbid," said Little Much, + "That died on a tree, + That thou shouldest, Little John, + Part our company!" + Up he took him on his back, + And bare him well a mile, + Many a time he laid him down, + And shot another while. + + Then was there a fair cast-ell, + A little within the wood, + Double-ditched it was about, + And wall-ed, by the rood; + And there dwelled that gentle knight, + Sir Richard at the Lee, + That Rob-in had lent his good, + Under the green wood tree. + In he took good Rob-in, + And all his compan-y: + + "Welcome be thou, Robin Hood, + Welc-ome art thou me; + And much thank thee of thy comf-ort, + And of thy courtesy, + And of thy great kind-eness, + Under the green wood tree; + I love no man in all this world + So much as I do thee; + For all the proud sheriff of Nottingham, + Right here shalt thou be. + Shut the gates, and draw the bridge, + And let no man come in; + And arm you well, and make you read-y, + And to the wall ye win. + For one thing, Rob-in, I thee behote, + I swear by Saint Quin-tin, + These twelve days thou wonest with me, + To sup, eat, and dine." + + Boards were laid, and cloth-es spread, + Readily and anon; + Robin Hood and his merry men + To meat gan they gon. + + + + +THE SIXTH FYTTE. + + Lithe and listen, gentle men, + And hearken unto your song; + How the proud sheriff of Nottingham, + And men of arm-es strong, + Full fast came to the high sher-iff, + The country up to rout, + And they beset the knight's cast-ell, + The wall-es all about. + The proud sher-iff loud-e gan cry, + And said, "Thou traitor knight, + Thou keepest here the king's enemy, + Against the laws and right!" + + "Sir, I will avow that I have done, + The deeds that here be dight, + Upon all the land-es that I have, + As I am a true knight. + Wend-e forth, sirs, on your way, + And doth no more to me, + Till ye wite our king-es will + What he will say to thee." + + The sheriff thus had his answ-er, + Without an-y leas-ing, + Forth he yode to London town, + All for to tell our king. + There he told him of that knight, + And eke of Robin Hood, + And also of the bold arch-ers, + That noble were and good. + "He would avow that he had done, + To maintain the outlaws strong; + He would be lord, and set you at nought, + In all the north lond." + + "I will be at Nottingham," said the king, + "Within this fortnight, + And take I will Robin Hood, + And so I will that knight. + Go home, thou proud sher-iff, + And do as I bid thee, + And ordain good arch-ers enow, + Of all the wide countree." + + The sheriff had his leave i-take, + And went him on his way; + And Robin Hood to green wood + Upon a certain day; + And Little John was whole of the arrow, + That shot was in his knee, + And did him straight to Robin Hood, + Under the green wood tree. + Robin Hood walked in the for-est, + Under the leav-es green, + The proud sher-iff of Nottingham, + Therefore he had great teen. + + The sheriff there failed of Robin Hood, + He might not have his prey, + Then he awaited that gentle knight, + Both by night and by day. + Ever he awaited that gentle knight, + Sir Richard at the Lee. + As he went on hawking by the river side, + And let his hawk-es flee, + Took he there this gentle knight, + With men of arm-es strong, + And led him home to Nottingham ward, + I-bound both foot and hond. + + The sheriff swore a full great oath, + By him that died on a tree, + He had liever than an hundred pound, + That Robin Hood had he. + + Then the lad-y, the knight-es wife, + A fair lad-y and free, + She set her on a good palfr-ey, + To green wood anon rode she. + When she came to the for-est, + Under the green wood tree, + Found-e she there Robin Hood, + And all his fair meyn-e. + + "God thee save, good Robin Hood, + And all thy compan-y; + For our deare Ladyes love, + A boon grant thou to me. + Let thou never my wedded lord + Shamefully slain to be; + He is fast i-bounde to Nottingham ward, + For the love of thee." + + Anon then said good Rob-in, + To that lad-ye free, + "What man hath your lord i-take?" + + "The proud sheriff," then said she. + "Forsooth as I thee say; + He is not yet three mil-es + Pass-ed on your way." + + Up then stert-e good Rob-in, + As a man that had be wode: + "Busk you, my merr-y young men, + For him that died on a rode; + And he that this sorrow forsaketh, + By him that died on a tree, + Shall he never in green wood be, + Nor longer dwell with me." + + Soon there were good bows i-bent, + More than seven score, + Hedge ne ditch spar-ed they none, + That was them before. + + "I make mine avow," said Robin, + "The knight would I fain see, + And if I ma-y him take, + Iquit then shall he be." + + And when they came to Nottingham, + They walk-ed in the street, + And with the proud sheriff, i-wis, + Soon-e gan they meet. + + "Abide, thou proud sher-iff," he said, + "Abide and speak with me, + Of some tidings of our king, + I would fain hear of thee. + This seven year, by dere-worthy God, + Ne yede I so fast on foot, + I make mine avow, thou proud sheriff, + Is not for thy good." + + Robin bent a good bow-e, + An arrow he drew at his will, + He hit so the proud sher-iff, + On the ground he lay full still; + And ere he might up arise, + On his feet to stand, + He smote off the sheriff's head, + With his bright brand. + + "Lie thou there, thou proud sher-iff, + Evil mote thou thrive; + There might no man to thee trust, + The whiles thou were alive." + + His men drew out their bright swords + That were so sharp and keen, + And laid on the sher-iff's men, + And drived them down bidene. + Robin stert to that knight, + And cut atwo his band, + And took him in his hand a bow, + And bade him by him stand. + "Leav-e thy horse thee behind, + And learn for to ren; + Thou shalt with me to green wood, + Through mire, moss, and fen; + Thou shalt with me to green wood, + Without an-y leas-ing, + Till that I have get us grace, + Of Edward our comely king." + + + + +THE SEVENTH FYTTE. + + The king came to Nottingham, + With knights in great array, + For to take that gentle knight, + And Robin Hood, if he may. + He asked men of that countr-e, + After Robin Hood, + And after that gentle knight, + That was so bold and stout. + + When they had told him the case, + Our king understood their tale, + And seised in his hand + The knight-es landes all, + All the pass of Lancashire, + He went both far and near, + Till he came to Plompton park, + He failed many of his deer. + Where our king was wont to see + Herd-es many one + He could unneth find one deer, + That bare an-y good horn. + The king was wonder wroth withal, + And swore by the trinit-e, + "I would I had Robin Hood, + With eyen I might him see; + And he that would smite off the knight-es head. + And bring it to me, + He shall have the knight-es lands, + Sir Rychard at the Lee; + I give it him with my chart-er, + And seal it with my hand, + To have and hold for ever-more, + In all merr-y Engl-and." + + Then bespake a fair old knight, + That was true in his fay, + "Ah, my lieg-e lord the king, + One word I shall you say: + There is no man in this countr-y + May have the knight-es lands, + While Robin Hood may ride or gon, + And bear a bow in his hands, + That he ne shall lose his head, + That is the best ball in his hood: + Give it no man, my lord the king, + That ye will any good!" + + Half a year dwelled our comely king, + In Nottingham, and well more, + Could he not hear of Robin Hood, + In what country that he were; + But alw-ay went good Rob-in + By halk and eke by hill, + And alway slew the king-es deer, + And welt them at his will. + + Then bespake a proud forstere, + That stood by our king's knee, + "If ye will see good Rob-in, + Ye must do after me. + Take five of the best knyght-es + That be in your lede, + And walk down by your abb-ey, + And get you monk-es weed. + And I will be your led-es man, + And led-e you the way, + And ere ye come to Nottingham, + Mine head then dare I lay, + That ye shall meet with good Rob-in, + Alive if that he be, + Ere ye come to Nottingham, + With eyen ye shall him see." + + Full hastily our king was dight, + So were his knight-es five, + Each of them in monk-es weed, + And hasted them thither blithe. + Our king was great above his cowl, + A broad hat on his crown, + Right as he were abbot-like, + They rode up into the town. + Stiff boots our king had on, + Forsooth as I you say, + He rode sing-ing to green wood, + The convent was clothed in gray, + His mail horse, and his great som-ers, + Followed our king behind, + Till they came to green-e wood, + A mile under the lind: + There they met with good Rob-in, + Standing on the way, + And so did many a bold arch-er, + For sooth as I you say. + + Robin took the king-es horse, + Hastily in that stead, + And said, "Sir abbot, by your leave, + A while ye must abide; + We be yeom-en of this for-est, + Under the green wood tree, + We live by our king-es deer, + Other shift have not we; + And ye have churches and rent-es both, + And gold full great plent-y; + Give us some of your spend-ing, + For saint Charity." + + Than bespake our comely king, + Anon then said he, + "I brought no more to green-e wood, + But forty pound with me. + I have lain at Nottingham, + This fortnight with our king, + And spent I have full much good, + On many a great lording; + And I have but forty pound, + No more then have I me; + But if I had an hundred pound, + I would give it to thee." + + Robin took the forty pound, + And departed it in two part-ye, + Halfendell he gave his merry men, + And bade them merr-y to be. + Full courteously Rob-in gan say, + "Sir, have this for your spend-ing, + We shall meet another day." + + "Gramerc-y," then said our king, + "But well thee greeteth Edw-ard our king, + And sent to thee his seal, + And biddeth thee come to Nottingham, + Both to meat and meal." + He took out the broad tarpe, + And soon he let him see; + Robin coud his courtesy, + And set him on his knee: + "I love no man in all the world + So well as I do my king, + Welcome is my lord-es seal; + And, monk, for thy tid-ing, + Sir abbot, for thy tiding-es, + To-day thou shalt dine with me, + For the love of my king, + Under my trystell tree." + + Forth he led our comely king, + Full fair by the hand, + Many a deer there was slain, + And full fast dightand. + Robin took a full great horn, + And loud he gan blow; + Seven score of wight young men, + Came ready on a row, + All they kneel-ed on their knee, + Full fair before Rob-in. + The king said himself unto, + And swore by saint Austin, + "Here is a wonder seemly sight, + Me thinketh, by Goddes pine; + His men are more at his bidd-ing, + Than my men be at mine!" + + Full hastily was their dinner i-dight, + And thereto gan they gon, + They served our king with all their might, + Both Robin and Little John. + Anon before our king was set + The fatt-e venison, + The good white bread, the good red wine, + And thereto the fine ale brown. + "Mak-e good cheer," said Rob-in, + "Abb-ot, for charit-y; + And for this ilk-e tiding-e, + Bless-ed mote thou be. + Now shalt thou see what life we lead, + Or thou henn-es wend, + Then thou may inform our king, + When ye together lend." + + Up they stert all in haste, + Their bows were smartly bent, + Our king was never so sore agast, + He weened to have be shent. + Two yard-es there were up set, + Thereto gan they gang; + But fifty pace, our king said, + The mark-es were too long. + On every side a rose garl-and, + They shot under the line. + "Whoso faileth of the rose garland," said Robin, + "His tackle he shall tine, + And yield it to his master, + Be it never so fine,-- + For no man will I spare, + So drinke I ale or wine,-- + And bear a buffet on his head + I-wys right all bare." + + And all that fell in Robin's lot, + He smote them wonder sair. + Twi-es Robin shot about, + And ever he cleaved the wand, + And so did good Gilb-ert, + With the lily white hand; + Little John and good Scath-elock, + For nothing would they spare, + When they failed of the garl-and, + Robin smote them fall sair. + At the last shot that Robin shot, + For all his friends fair, + Yet he failed of the garl-and, + Three fingers and mair. + + Then bespak-e good Gilb-ert, + And thus he gan say, + "Master," he said, "your tackle is lost, + Stand forth and take your pay." + "If it be so," said Rob-in, + "That may no better be: + Sir abbot, I deliver thee mine arrow, + I pray thee, sir, serve thou me." + + "It falleth not for mine order," said our king; + "Robin, by thy leave, + For to smite no good yeom-an, + For doubt I should him grieve." + + "Smite on boldly!" said Rob-in, + "I give thee larg-e leave." + + Anon our king, with that word, + He fold up his sleeve, + And such a buffet he gave Rob-in, + To ground he yede full near. + + "I make mine avow to God," said Robin, + "Thou art a stalworthy frere; + There is pith in thine arm," said Rob-in, + "I trow thou canst well shoot!" + + Thus our king and Robin Hood + Together then they met. + + Robin beheld our comely king + Wistly in the face, + So did Sir Richard at the Lee, + And kneeled down in that place; + And so did all the wild outl-aws, + When they see them kneel. + "My lord the king of Engl-and, + Now I know you well. + Merc-y," then Robin said to our king, + "Under your trystal tree, + Of thy goodness and thy grace, + For my men and me! + Yes, fore God," said Robin, + "And also God me save; + I ask merc-y, my lord the king, + And for my men I crave." + + "Yes, fore God," then said our king, + "Thy petition I grant thee, + With that thou leave the green wood, + And all thy compan-y; + And come home, sir, to my court, + And there dwell with me." + + "I make mine avow," said Rob-in, + "And right so shall it be; + I will come to your court, + Your service for to see, + And bring with me of my men + Seven score and three. + But me like well your serv-ice, + I come again full soon, + And shoot at the donn-e deer, + As I am wont to doon." + + + + +THE EIGHTH FYTTE. + + "Hast thou any green cloth," said our king, + "That thou wilt sell now to me?" + "Yea, fore God," said Robin. + "Thirty yards and three." + + "Robin," said our king, + "Now pray I thee, + To sell me some of that cloth, + To me and my meyn-e." + + "Yes, fore God," then said Rob-in, + "Or else I were a fool; + Another day ye will me clothe, + I trow, against the Yule." + + The king cast off his cot-e then, + A green garment he did on, + And every knight had so, i-wis, + They cloth-ed them full soon. + When they were clothed in Lincoln green, + They cast away their gray. + Now we shall to Nottingham, + All thus our king gan say. + Their bows they bent and forth they went, + Shooting all in-fere, + Toward the town of Nottingham, + Outlaws as they were. + Our king and Robin rode together, + For sooth as I you say, + And they shot pluck-buffet, + As they went by the way; + And many a buffet our king wan, + Of Robin Hood that day: + And nothing spar-ed good Rob-in + Our king in his pay. + "So God me help-e," said our king, + "Thy name is nought to lere, + I should not get a shot of thee, + Though I shot all this year." + + All the people of Nottingham + They stood and beheld, + They saw nothing but mantles of green, + They covered all the feld; + Then every man to other gan say, + "I dread our king be slone; + Come Robin Hood to the town, i-wis, + On live he leaveth not one." + Full hastily they began to flee, + Both yeomen and knaves, + And old wives that might evil go, + They hopp-ed on their staves. + + The king be lough full fast, + And commanded them again; + When they see our comely king, + I-wis they were full fain. + They ate and drank, and made them glad, + And sang with not-es hie. + Then bespake our comely king + To Sir Richard at the Lee: + He gave him there his land again, + A good man he bade him be. + Robin thanked our comely king, + And set him on his knee. + + Had Robin dwelled in the king's court + But twelv-e months and three, + That he had spent an hundred pound, + And all his menn-es fee, + In every place where Robin came, + Ever more he laid down, + Both for knights and squires, + To get him great renown. + By then the year was all agone, + He had no man but twain, + Little John and good Scathlocke, + With him all for to gane. + + Robin saw yong-e men to shoot, + Full fair upon a day, + "Alas!" then said good Rob-in, + "My wealth is went away. + Sometime I was an archer good, + A stiff and eke a strong, + I was committed the best arch-er + That was in merry Englond. + Alas!" then said good Rob-in, + "Alas and well away! + If I dwell longer with the king, + Sorrow will me slay!" + + Forth then went Robin Hood, + Till he came to our king: + "My lord the king of Englond, + Grant me mine ask-ing. + I made a chapel in Barnysdale, + That seemly is to see, + It is of Mary Magdalene, + And thereto would I be; + I might never in this seven-night, + No time to sleep ne wink, + Neither all these seven days, + Neither eat ne drink. + Me longeth sore to Barnysdale, + I may not be therefro, + Barefoot and woolward I have hight + Thither for to go." + + "If it be so," then said our king, + "It may no better be; + Seven-night I give thee leave, + No longer, to dwell fro me." + + "Gram-ercy, lord," then said Rob-in, + And set him on his knee; + He took his leave full courteously, + To green wood then went he. + When he came to green-e wood, + In a merr-y morning, + There he heard the not-es small + Of bird-es merry sing-ing. + "It is ferre gone," said Rob-in, + "That I was last here, + Me list a little for to shoot + At the dunne deer." + Robin slew a full great hart, + His horn then gan he blow, + That all the outlaws of that for-est, + That horn could they know, + And gathered them together, + In a little throw, + Seven score of wight young men, + Came ready on a row; + And fair did off their hoods, + And set them on their knee: + "Welcome," they said, "our mast-er, + Under this green wood tree!" + + Robin dwelled in green wood, + Twenty year and two, + For all dread of Edward our king, + Again would he not go. + Yet he was beguiled, i-wis, + Through a wicked wom-an, + The Prioress of Kirklees, + That nigh was of his kin, + For the love of a knight, + Sir Roger of Doncaster, + That was her own special, + Full evil mote they thee, + + They took together their couns-el, + Robin Hood for to sle, + And how they might best do that deed, + His banis for to be. + Then bespak-e good Rob-in, + In place whereas he stood, + "To-morrow I must to Kirklees, + Craftily to be letten blood." + Sir Roger of Doncaster, + By the Prioress he lay, + And there they betrayed good Robin Hood, + Through their fals-e play. + Christ have mercy on his soul, + That di-ed on the rood! + For he was a good outlaw, + And did poor men much good. + + + + +KING EDWARD IV. AND THE TANNER OF TAMWORTH. + + In summer time, when leaves grow green, + And blossoms bedeck the tree, + King Edward would a hunting ride, + Some pastime for to see. + + With hawk and hound he made him boun, + With horn, and eke with bow; + To Drayton Basset he took his way, + With all his lords arow. + + And he had ridden o'er dale and down + By eight of clock in the day, + When he was ware of a bold tann-er, + Come riding along the way. + + A fair russet coat the tanner had on, + Fast buttoned under his chin, + And under him a good cow-hide, + And a mare of four shill-ing. + + "Now stand you still, my good lords all + Under the green wood spray; + And I will wend to yonder fell-ow, + To weet what he will say."-- + + "God speed, God speed thee," said our king.-- + "Thou art welcome, sir," said he.-- + "The readiest way to Drayton Basset + I pray thee to show to me."-- + + "To Drayton Basset wouldst thou go, + Fro the place where thou dost stand? + The next pair of gallows thou comest unto + Turn in upon thy right hand."-- + + "That is an unready way," said our king, + "Thou doest but jest, I see; + Now show me out the nearest way, + And I pray thee wend with me."-- + + "Away with a vengeance!" quoth the tanner: + "I hold thee out of thy wit: + All day have I ridden on Brock my mare, + And I am fasting yet."-- + + "Go with me down to Drayton Basset, + No dainties we will spare; + All day shalt thou eat and drink of the best, + And I will pay thy fare."-- + + "Gram-ercy for nothing," the tanner replied, + "Thou payest no fare of mine: + I trow I've more nobles in my purse, + Than thou hast pence in thine."-- + + "God give thee joy of them," said the king, + "And send them well to prief."-- + The tanner would fain have been away, + For he weened he had been a thief. + + "What art thou," he said, "thou fine fell-ow? + Of thee I am in great fear, + For the clothes thou wearest upon thy back + Might beseem a lord to wear."-- + + "I never stole them," quoth our king, + "I tell you, sir, by the rood."-- + "Then thou playest, as many an unthrift doth, + And standest in midst of thy good."-- + + "What tidings hear you," said the king. + "As you ride far and near?"-- + "I hear no tidings, sir, by the mass, + But that cow-hides are dear."-- + + "Cow-hides! cow-hides! what things are those? + I marvel what they be!"-- + "What, art thou a fool?" the tanner replied; + "I carry one under me."-- + + "What craftsman art thou?" said the king, + "I pray thee tell me trow."-- + "I am a barker, sir, by my trade. + Now tell me what art thou?"-- + + "I am a poor courtier, sir," quoth he, + "That am forth of service worn; + And fain I would thy 'prentice be, + Thy cunning for to learn."-- + + "Marry, heaven forfend," the tanner replied, + "That thou my 'prentice were! + Thou'dst spend more good than I should win, + By forty shilling a year."-- + + "Yet one thing would I," said our king, + "If thou wilt not seem strange: + Though my horse be better than thy mare, + Yet with thee I fain would change."-- + + "Why, if with me thou fain wilt change, + As change full well may we, + By the faith of my body, thou proud fell-ow + I will have some boot of thee."-- + + "That were against reason," said the king, + "I swear, so mote I thee: + My horse is better than thy mare, + And that thou well may'st see."-- + + "Yea, sir, but Brock is gentle and mild, + And softly she will fare; + Thy horse is unruly and wild, i-wis; + Aye skipping here and there."-- + + "What boot wilt thou have?" our king replied; + "Now tell me in this stound."-- + "No pence, nor halfpence, by my fay, + But a noble in gold so round."-- + + "Here's twenty groats of white mon-ey, + Sith thou wilt have it of me."-- + "I would have sworn now," quoth the tanner, + "Thou hadst not had one penni-e. + + "But since we two have made a change, + A change we must abide; + Although thou hast gotten Brock my mare, + Thou gettest not my cow-hide."-- + + "I will not have it," said the king, + "I swear, so mote I thee; + Thy foul cow-hide I would not bear, + If thou wouldst give it to me." + + The tanner he took his good cow-hide + That of the cow was hilt; + And threw it upon the king's sad-elle, + That was so fairly gilt. + + "Now help me up, thou fine fell-ow, + 'Tis time that I were gone: + When I come home to Gyllian my wife, + She'll say I am a gentilmon." + + When the tanner he was in the king's sad-elle, + And his foot in the stirrup was; + He marvelled greatly in his mind, + Whether it were gold or brass. + + But when his steed saw the cow's tail wag, + And eke the black cow-horn; + He stamped, and stared, and away he ran, + As the devil had him borne. + + The tanner he pulled, the tanner he sweat, + And held by the pummel fast: + At length the tanner came tumbling down; + His neck he had well-nigh brast. + + "Take thy horse again with a vengeance!" he said, + "With me he shall not bide!"-- + "My horse would have borne thee well enough, + But he knew not of thy cow-hide. + + "Yet if again thou fain wouldst change, + As change full well may we, + By the faith of my body, thou jolly tann-er, + I will have some boot of thee."-- + + "What boot wilt thou have?" the tanner replied, + "Now tell me in this stound."-- + "No pence nor halfpence, sir, by my fay, + But I will have twenty pound."-- + + "Here's twenty groats out of my purse; + And twenty I have of thine: + And I have one more, which we will spend + Together at the wine." + + The king set a bugle horn to his mouth, + And blew both loud and shrill: + And soon came lords, and soon came knights, + Fast riding over the hill. + + "Now, out alas!" the tanner he cried, + "That ever I saw this day! + Thou art a strong thief, yon come thy fell-ows + Will bear my cow-hide away!"-- + + "They are no thieves," the king replied, + "I swear, so mote I thee: + But they are the lords of the north countr-y, + Here come to hunt with me." + + And soon before our king they came, + And knelt down on the ground: + Then might the tanner have been away, + He had liever than twenty pound. + + "A collar, a collar, here!" said the king, + "A collar!" he loud gan cry; + Then would he liever than twenty pound, + He had not been so nigh. + + "A collar, a collar," the tanner he said, + "I trow it will breed sorrow; + After a collar cometh a halter, + I trow I'll be hanged to-morrow."-- + + "Be not afraid, tanner," said our king; + "I tell thee, so mote I thee, + Lo here I make thee the best esquire + That is in the north countrie. + + "For Plumpton Park I will give thee, + With tenements fair beside: + 'Tis worth three hundred marks by the year, + To maintain thy good cow-hide."-- + + "Gram-ercy, my liege," the tanner replied + "For the favour thou hast me shown; + If ever thou comest to merry Tam-worth, + Neat's leather shall clout thy shoon." + + + + +SIR PATRICK SPENS. + + The king sits in Dumferling toune, + Drinking the blude-reid wine: + "O whare will I get a skeely skipper + To sail this new ship of mine?" + + Up and spak an eldern knicht, + Sat at the king's right knee: + "Sir Patrick Spens is the best sail-or + That ever sailed the sea." + + Our king has written a braid letter, + And sealed it with his hand; + And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, + Was walking on the sand. + + "To Noroway, to Noroway, + To Noroway o'er the faem; + The king's daughter of Noroway, + 'Tis thou maun bring her hame." + + The first word that Sir Patrick read, + A loud laugh laughed he: + The neist word that Sir Patrick read, + The tear blinded his ee. + + "O wha is this has done this deed, + And tauld the king o' me; + To send us out this time o' the year, + To sail upon the sea? + + "Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet, + Our ship must sail the faem, + The king's daughter of Noroway, + 'Tis we must fetch her hame." + + They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn, + Wi' a' the speed they may; + They hae landed in Noroway, + Upon a Wodensday. + + They hadna been a week, a week, + In Noroway, but twae, + When that the lords o' Noroway + Began aloud to say,-- + + "Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's goud, + And a' our queenis fee."-- + "Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud, + Fu' loud I hear ye lie; + + "For I brought as much white monie + As gane my men and me, + And I brought a half-fou of gude red goud, + Out o'er the sea wi' me. + + "Make ready, make ready, my merry men a', + Our gude ship sails the morn!"-- + "Now, ever alack, my master dear, + I fear a deadly storm! + + "I saw the new moon, late yestreen, + Wi' the auld moon in her arm; + And if we gang to sea, master, + I fear we'll come to harm." + + They hadna sailed a league, a league, + A league but barely three, + When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud, + And gurly grew the sea. + + The ankers brak, and the topmasts lap, + It was sic a deadly storm; + And the waves cam o'er the broken ship, + Till a' her sides were torn. + + "O where will I get a gude sail-or + To take my helm in hand, + Till I get up to the tall topmast + To see if I can spy land?"-- + + "O here am I, a sailor gude, + To take the helm in hand, + Till you go up to the tall topmast, + But I fear you'll ne'er spy land." + + He hadna gane a step, a step, + A step but barely ane, + When a bolt flew out of our goodly ship, + And the salt sea it came in. + + "Gae, fetch a web o' the silken claith, + Another o' the twine, + And wap them into our ship's side, + And let nae the sea come in." + + They fetched a web o' the silken claith, + Another o' the twine, + And they wapped them round that gude ship's side, + But still the sea cam in. + + O laith, laith, were our gude Scots lords + To wet their cork-heeled shoon! + But lang or a' the play was played + They wat their hats aboon. + + And mony was the feather bed + That flattered on the faem; + And mony was the gude lord's son + That never mair cam hame. + + The ladies wrang their fingers white, + The maidens tore their hair, + A' for the sake of their true loves; + For them they'll see nae mair. + + O lang, lang, may the ladies sit, + Wi' their fans into their hand, + Before they see Sir Patrick Spens + Come sailing to the strand! + + And lang, lang, may the maidens sit, + Wi' their gold combs in their hair, + Awaiting for their ain dear loves! + For them they'll see nae mair. + + O forty miles off Aberdeen + 'Tis fifty fathoms deep, + And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens, + Wi' the Scots lords at his feet. + + + + +EDOM O' GORDON. + + It fell about the Martinmas, + When the wind blew shrill and cauld, + Said Edom o' Gordon to his men, + "We maun draw till a hauld. + + "And what a hauld sall we draw till, + My merry men and me? + We wull gae to the house o' the Rode, + To see that fair lad-ie." + + The ladie stude on her castle wa', + Beheld baith dale and down: + There she was ware of a host of men + Come riding towards the toun. + + + "O see ye nat, my merry men a'? + O see ye nat what I see? + Methinks I see a host of men: + I marvel wha they be!" + + She weened it had been her luvely lord, + As he came riding hame; + It was the traitor Edom o' Gordon, + Wha recked nae sin nor shame. + + She had nae sooner buskit hersel, + And putten on her goun, + But Edom o' Gordon and his men + Were round about the toun. + + They had nae sooner supper set, + Nae sooner said the grace, + But Edom o' Gordon and his men + Were light about the place. + + The lady ran up to her tower head, + Sae fast as she could hie, + To see if by her fair speech-es + She could wi' him agree. + + But whan he see this lady saif, + And her gat-es all locked fast, + He fell into a rage of wrath, + And his look was all aghast. + + "Come down to me, ye lady gay, + Come down, come down to me! + This night sall ye lig within mine arms + To-morrow my bride sall be."-- + + "I winna come down, ye false Gord-on, + I winna come down to thee; + I winna forsake my ain dear lord, + That is sae far frae me."-- + + "Give o'er your house, ye lady fair, + Give o'er your house to me, + Or I sall bren yoursel therein, + Bot and your babies three."-- + + "I winna give o'er, ye false Gord-on + To nae sic traitor as ye; + And if ye bren my ain dear babes, + My lord sall make you dree. + + "But reach my pistol, Glaud, my man, + And charge ye weel my gun: + For, but an I pierce that bluidy butcher + My babes we been undone." + + She stude upon her castle wa', + And let twa bullets flee: + She missed that bluidy butcher's heart + And only rased his knee. + + "Set fire to the house!" quo' false Gord-on, + All wood wi' dule and ire: + "False lady, ye sall rue this deed, + As ye bren in the fire!"-- + + "Wae worth, wae worth ye, Jock my man, + I paid ye weel your fee: + Why pu' ye out the ground-wa' stane, + Lets in the reek to me? + + "And e'en wae worth ye, Jock my man, + I paid ye weel your hire; + Why pu' ye out the ground-wa' stane, + To me lets in the fire?"-- + + "Ye paid me weel my hire, lady; + Ye paid me weel my fee; + But now I'm Edom o' Gordon's man, + Maun either do or dee." + + O then bespake her little son, + Sate on the nurse's knee: + Says, "Mither dear, gi'e o'er this house, + For the reek it smithers me."-- + + "I wad gi'e a' my gowd, my child, + Sae wad I a' my fee, + For ane blast o' the western wind + To blaw the reek frae thee." + + O then bespake her dochter dear, + She was baith jimp and sma', + "O row me in a pair o' sheets, + And tow me o'er the wa'." + + They rowd her in a pair o' sheets, + And towd her o'er the wa': + But on the point of Gordon's spear + She gat a deadly fa'. + + O bonnie bonnie was her mouth, + And cherry were her cheeks, + And clear clear was her yellow hair, + Whereon the reid bluid dreeps. + + Then wi' his spear he turned her o'er,-- + O gin her face was wan! + He said, "Ye are the first that e'er + I wished alive again." + + He turned her o'er and o'er again,-- + O gin her skin was white! + "I might ha' spared that bonnie face + To hae been some man's delite. + + "Busk and boun, my merry men a', + For ill dooms I do guess; + I canna luik in that bonnie face, + As it lies on the grass."-- + + "Tham luiks to freits, my master dear, + Then freits will follow thame: + Let it neir be said brave Edom o' Gordon + Was daunted by a dame!"-- + + But when the ladie see the fire + Come flaming o'er her head, + She wept and kissed her children twain, + Said, "Bairns, we been but dead!" + + The Gordon then his bugle blew, + And said, "Awa', awa'; + This house o' the Rodes is a' in flame, + I hauld it time to ga'." + + O then bespied her ain dear lord, + As he came o'er the lee; + He spied his castle all in blaze + Sae far as he could see. + + Then sair, O sair his mind misgave, + And all his heart was wae; + "Put on! put on! my wighty men, + So fast as ye can gae! + + "Put on! put on! my wighty men, + Sae fast as ye can dree; + For he that is hindmost of the thrang + Sall neir get guid o' me!" + + Then some they rade, and some they rin, + Fou fast out-o'er the bent, + But ere the foremost could get up, + Baith ladie and babes were brent. + + He wrang his hands, he rent his hair, + And wept in teenefu' muid: + "O traitors! for this cruel deed + Ye sall weep tears o' bluid!" + + And after the Gordon he is gane, + So fast as he might dree; + And soon i' the Gordon's foul heart's bluid + He's wroken his dear ladie. + + + + +THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD. + + Now ponder well, you parents dear, + These words which I shall write; + A doleful story you shall hear, + In time brought forth to light. + A gentleman of good account + In Norfolk dwelt of late, + Who did in honour far surmount + Most men of his estate. + + Sore sick he was, and like to die, + No help his life could save; + His wife by him as sick did lie, + And both possessed one grave. + No love between these two was lost, + Each was to other kind; + In love they lived, in love they died, + And left two babes behind: + + The one a fine and pretty boy, + Not passing three years old; + The other a girl more young than he, + And framed in beauty's mould. + The father left his little son, + As plainly doth appear, + When he to perfect age should come, + Three hundred pounds a year. + + And to his little daughter Jane + Five hundred pounds in gold, + To be paid down on marriage-day, + Which might not be controlled: + But if the children chance to die, + Ere they to age should come, + Their uncle should possess their wealth; + For so the will did run. + + "Now, brother," said the dying man, + "Look to my children dear; + Be good unto my boy and girl, + No friends else have they here: + To God and you I recommend + My children dear this day; + But little while be sure we have + Within this world to stay. + + "You must be father and mother both, + And uncle all in one; + God knows what will become of them, + When I am dead and gone." + With that bespake their mother dear, + "O brother kind," quoth she, + "You are the man must bring our babes + To wealth or misery: + + "And if you keep them carefully, + Then God will you reward; + But if you otherwise should deal, + God will your deeds regard." + With lips as cold as any stone, + They kissed their children small: + "God bless you both, my children dear!" + With that the tears did fall. + + These speeches then their brother spake + To this sick couple there,-- + "The keeping of your little ones, + Sweet sister, do not fear: + God never prosper me nor mine, + Nor aught else that I have, + If I do wrong your children dear, + When you are laid in grave!" + + The parents being dead and gone, + The children home he takes, + And brings them straight unto his house, + Where much of them he makes. + He had not kept these pretty babes + A twelvemonth and a day, + But, for their wealth, he did devise + To make them both away. + + He bargained with two ruffians strong, + Which were of furious mood, + That they should take these children young, + And slay them in a wood. + He told his wife an artful tale, + He would the children send + To be brought up in fair Lond-on, + With one that was his friend. + + Away then went those pretty babes, + Rejoicing at that tide, + Rejoicing with a merry mind, + They should on cock-horse ride. + They prate and prattle pleasantly, + As they rode on the way, + To those that should their butchers be, + And work their lives' decay: + + So that the pretty speech they had, + Made Murder's heart relent; + And they that undertook the deed, + Full sore did now repent. + Yet one of them more hard of heart, + Did vow to do his charge, + Because the wretch that hir-ed him + Had paid him very large. + + The other won't agree thereto, + So here they fall to strife; + With one another they did fight, + About the children's life: + And he that was of mildest mood, + Did slay the other there, + Within an unfrequented wood; + The babes did quake for fear! + + He took the children by the hand, + Tears standing in their eye, + And bade them straightway follow him, + And look they did not cry: + And two long miles he led them on, + While they for food complain: + "Stay here," quoth he, "I'll bring you bread, + When I come back again." + + These pretty babes, with hand in hand, + Went wandering up and down; + But never more could see the man + Approaching from the town: + Their pretty lips with black-berries, + Were all besmeared and dyed; + And when they saw the darksome night, + They sat them down and cried. + + Thus wandered these poor innocents, + Till death did end their grief; + In one another's arms they died, + As wanting due relief: + No burial this pretty pair + Of any man receives, + Till Robin-red-breast piously + Did cover them with leaves. + + And now the heavy wrath of God + Upon their uncle fell; + Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house, + His conscience felt an hell: + His barns were fired, his goods consumed, + His lands were barren made, + His cattle died within the field, + And nothing with him staid. + + And in a voyage to Portugal + Two of his sons did die; + And to conclude, himself was brought + To want and miser-y: + He pawned and mortgaged all his land + Ere seven years came about; + And now at length this wicked act + Did by this means come out: + + The fellow that did take in hand + These children for to kill, + Was for a robbery judged to die; + Such was God's blessed will; + Who did confess the very truth, + As here hath been displayed: + Their uncle having died in gaol, + Where he for debt was laid. + + You that executors be made, + And overse-ers eke + Of children that be fatherless + And infants mild and meek; + Take you example by this thing, + And yield to each his right, + Lest God with such like misery + Your wicked minds requite. + + + + +THE BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BETHNAL GREEN. + + PART THE FIRST. + + It was a blind beggar, had long lost his sight, + He had a fair daughter of beauty most bright; + And many a gallant brave suitor had she, + For none was so comely as pretty Bessee. + + And though she was truly of favour most fair, + Yet seeing she was but a poor beggar's heir, + Of ancient housekeepers despis-ed was she, + Whose sons came as suitors to pretty Bessee. + + Wherefore in great sorrow fair Bessy did say, + "Good father, and mother, let me go away + To seek out my fortune, whatever it be." + This suit then they granted to pretty Bessee. + + Then Bessy, that was of a beauty so bright, + All clad in grey russet, and late in the night + From father and mother alone parted she; + Who sigh-ed and sobb-ed for pretty Bessee. + + She went till she came into Stratford-le-Bow; + Then knew she not whither, nor which way to go: + With tears she lamented her hard destin-ie, + So sad and so heavy was pretty Bessee. + + She kept on her journey until it was day, + And went unto Rumford along the highway; + Where at the Queen's Arms entertain-ed was she: + So fair and well-favoured was pretty Bessee. + + She had not been there a month to an end, + But master and mistress and all was her friend: + And every brave gallant, that once did her see, + Was straightway enamoured of pretty Bessee. + + Great gifts they did send her of silver and gold, + And in their songs daily her love was extolled; + Her beauty was blaz-ed in every degree, + So fair and so comely was pretty Bessee. + + The young men of Rumford in her had their joy; + She showed herself courteous, and modestly coy, + And at her command-ement still would they be; + So fair and so comely was pretty Bessee. + + Four suitors at once unto her did go; + They crav-ed her favour, but still she said no; + I would not wish gentles to marry with me; + Yet ever they honour-ed pretty Bessee. + + The first of them was a gallant young knight, + And he came unto her disguised in the night: + The second a gentleman of good degree, + Who woo-ed and su-ed for pretty Bessee: + + A merchant of London, whose wealth was not small, + He was the third suitor, and proper withal: + Her master's own son the fourth man must be, + Who swore he would die for pretty Bessee. + + "And, if thou wilt marry with me," quoth the knight, + "I'll make thee a lady with joy and delight; + My heart's so inthrall-ed by thy beaut-ie, + That soon I shall die for pretty Bessee." + + The gentleman said, "Come, marry with me, + As fine as a lady my Bessy shall be: + My life is distress-ed: O hear me," quoth he; + "And grant me thy love, my pretty Bessee." + + "Let me be thy husband," the merchant could say, + "Thou shalt live in London both gallant and gay; + My ships shall bring home rich jewels for thee, + And I will for ever love pretty Bessee." + + Then Bessy she sigh-ed, and thus she did say, + "My father and mother I mean to obey; + First get their good will, and be faithful to me, + And you shall enjoy your pretty Bessee." + + To every one this answer she made, + Wherefore unto her they joyfully said,-- + "This thing to fulfil we all do agree: + But where dwells thy father, my pretty Bessee?" + + "My father," she said, "is soon to be seen: + The seely blind beggar of Bethnal Green, + That daily sits begging for charit-ie, + He is the good father of pretty Bessee." + + "His marks and his tokens are known very well; + He always is led with a dog and a bell: + A seely old man, God knoweth, is he, + Yet he is the father of pretty Bessee." + + "Nay then," quoth the merchant, "thou art not for me:" + "Nor," quoth the innholder, "my wife thou shalt be:" + "I loathe," said the gentle, "a beggar's degree, + And therefore adieu, my pretty Bessee!" + + "Why then," quoth the knight, "hap better or worse, + I weigh not true love by the weight of the purse, + And beauty is beauty in every degree; + Then welcome unto me, my pretty Bessee: + + "With thee to thy father forthwith I will go." + "Nay soft," quoth his kinsmen, "it must not be so; + A poor beggar's daughter no lady shall be; + Then take thy adieu of pretty Bessee." + + But soon after this, by the break of the day, + The knight had from Rumford stole Bessy away. + The young men of Rumford, as thick as might be, + Rode after to fetch again pretty Bessee. + + As swift as the wind to ride they were seen, + Until they came near unto Bethnal Green; + And as the knight lighted most courteouslie, + They all fought against him for pretty Bessee. + + But rescue came speedily over the plain, + Or else the young knight for his love had been slain. + This fray being ended, then straightway he see + His kinsmen come railing at pretty Bessee. + + Then spake the blind beggar, "Although I be poor, + Yet rail not against my child at my own door: + Though she be not deck-ed in velvet and pearl, + Yet will I drop angels with you for my girl. + + "And then, if my gold may better her birth, + And equal the gold that you lay on the earth, + Then neither rail nor grudge you to see + The blind beggar's daughter a lady to be. + + "But first you shall promise, and have it well known, + The gold that you drop shall all be your own." + With that they repli-ed, "Contented be we." + "Then here's," quoth the beggar, "for pretty Bessee!" + + And with that an angel he cast on the ground, + And dropp-ed in angels full three thousand pound; + And oftentimes it was prov-ed most plain, + For the gentlemen's one the beggar dropped twain: + + So that the place, wherein they did sit, + With gold it was cover-ed every whit. + The gentlemen then having dropt all their store, + Said, "Now, beggar, hold; for we have no more. + + "Thou hast fulfill-ed thy promise aright." + "Then marry," quoth he, "my girl to this knight; + And here," added he, "I will now throw you down + A hundred pounds more to buy her a gown." + + The gentlemen all, that this treasure had seen, + Admir-ed the beggar of Bethnal Green: + And all those, that were her suitors before, + Their flesh for very anger they tore. + + Thus the fair Bess was matched to the knight, + And then made a lady in others' despite: + A fairer lady there never was seen + Than the blind beggar's daughter of Bethnal Green. + + But of their sumptuous marriage and feast, + What brave lords and knights thither were prest, + The SECOND FITT shall set forth to your sight + With marvellous pleasure, and wish-ed delight. + + + + +THE SECOND FYTTE. + + Of a blind beggar's daughter most bright, + That late was betroth-ed unto a young knight; + All the discourse thereof you did see; + But now comes the wedding of pretty Bessee. + + Within a gorgeous palace most brave, + Adorn-ed with all the cost they could have, + This wedding was kept most sumptuousl-ie, + And all for the credit of pretty Bessee. + + All kind of dainties, and delicates sweet + Were bought for the banquet, as it was most meet; + Partridge, and plover, and venison most free, + Against the brave wedding of pretty Bessee. + + This marriage through England was spread by report, + So that a great number thereto did resort + Of nobles and gentles in every degree; + And all for the fame of pretty Bessee. + + To church then went this gallant young knight, + His bride followed after, an angel most bright, + With gay troops of ladies, the like ne'er was seen + As went with sweet Bessy of Bethnal Green. + + This marriage being sol-emniz-ed then, + With music performed by the skilfullest men, + The nobles and gentles sate down at that tide, + Each one admiring the beautiful bride. + + Now, after the sumptuous dinner was done, + To talk and to reason a number begun; + They talked of the blind beggar's daughter most bright, + And what with his daughter he gave to the knight. + + Then spake the nobles, "Much marvel have we, + This jolly blind beggar we cannot here see." + "My lords," quoth the bride, "my father's so base, + He is loth with his presence these states to disgrace." + + "The praise of a woman in question to bring + Before her own face, were a flattering thing; + But we think thy father's baseness," quoth they, + "Might by thy beauty be clean put away." + + They had no sooner these pleasant words spoke, + But in comes the beggar clad in a silk cloak; + A fair velvet cap and a feather had he, + And now a musician forsooth he would be. + + He had a dainty lute under his arm, + He touch-ed the strings, which made such a charm, + Says, "Please you to hear any music of me, + I'll sing you a song of pretty Bessee." + + With that his lute he twang-ed straightway, + And thereon began most sweetly to play; + And after that lessons were played two or three, + He strained out this song most delicatel-ie. + + "A poor beggar's daughter did dwell on a green, + Who for her fairness might well be a queen: + A blithe bonny lass, and a dainty was she, + And many one call-ed her pretty Bessee. + + "Her father he had no goods, nor no land, + But begged for a penny all day with his hand; + And yet to her marriage he gave thousands three, + And still he hath somewhat for pretty Bessee. + + "And if any one here her birth do disdain, + Her father is ready, with might and with main, + To prove she is come of a noble degree, + Therefore never flout at pretty Bessee." + + With that the lords and the company round + With hearty laughter were ready to swound. + At last said the lords, "Full well we may see, + The bride and the beggar's beholden to thee." + + On this the bride all blushing did rise, + The pearly drops standing within her fair eyes. + "O pardon my father, grave nobles," quoth she, + "That through blind affection thus doteth on me." + + "If this be thy father," the nobles did say, + "Well may he be proud of this happy day; + Yet by his countenance well may we see, + His birth and his fortune did never agree: + + "And therefore, blind man, we bid thee bewray, + (And look that the truth thou to us do say) + Thy birth and thy parentage, what it may be; + For the love that thou bearest to pretty Bessee." + + "Then give me leave, nobles and gentles, each one, + One song more to sing, and then I have done; + And if that it may not win good report, + Then do not give me a groat for my sport. + + "Sir Simon de Montfort my subject shall be; + Once chief of all the great barons was he, + Yet fortune so cruel this lord did abase, + Now lost and forgotten are he and his race. + + "When the barons in arms did King Henry oppose, + Sir Simon de Montfort their leader they chose; + A leader of courage undaunted was he, + And oft-times he made their bold enemies flee. + + "At length in the battle on Evesham plain, + The barons were routed, and Montfort was slain; + Most fatal that battle did prove unto thee, + Though thou wast not born then, my pretty Bessee! + + "Along with the nobles, that fell at that tide, + His eldest son Henry, who fought by his side, + Was felled by a blow he received in the fight: + A blow that deprived him for ever of sight. + + "Among the dead bodies all lifeless he lay, + Till evening drew on of the following day. + When by a young lady discovered was he; + And this was thy mother, my pretty Bessee! + + "A baron's fair daughter stept forth in the night + To search for her father, who fell in the fight, + And seeing young Montfort, where gasping he lay, + Was mov-ed with pity, and brought him away. + + "In secret she nursed him, and swag-ed his pain, + While he through the realm was believed to be slain: + At length his fair bride she consented to be, + And made him glad father of pretty Bessee. + + "And now, lest our foes our lives should betray, + We cloth-ed ourselves in beggar's array; + Her jewels she sold, and hither came we: + All our comfort and care was our pretty Bessee. + + "And here have we liv-ed in fortune's despite, + Though poor, yet contented with humble delight: + Full forty winters thus have I been + A silly blind beggar of Bethnal Green. + + "And here noble lord-es, is ended the song + Of one that once to your own rank did belong: + And thus have you learn-ed a secret from me, + That ne'er had been known but for pretty Bessee." + + Now when the fair company every one, + Had heard the strange tale in the song he had shown, + They all were amaz-ed, as well they might be, + Both at the blind beggar, and pretty Bessee. + + With that the fair bride they all did embrace, + Saying, "Sure thou art come of an honourable race, + Thy father likewise is of noble degree, + And thou art well worthy a lady to be." + + Thus was the feast ended with joy and delight, + A bridegroom most happy then was the young knight, + In joy and felicity long liv-ed he, + All with his fair lady, the pretty Bessee. + + + + +THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON. + + There was a youth, and a well-beloved youth, + And he was a squire's son: + He loved the bailiffs daughter dear, + That lived in Islington. + + Yet she was coy, and would not believe + That he did love her so; + No, nor at any time would she + Any countenance to him show. + + But when his friends did understand + His fond and foolish mind, + They sent him up to fair Lond-on + An apprentice for to bind. + + And when he had been seven long years, + And never his love could see: + "Many a tear have I shed for her sake, + When she little thought of me." + + Then all the maids of Islington + Went forth to sport and play, + All but the bailiff's daughter dear; + She secretly stole away. + + She pull-ed off her gown of green, + And put on ragged attire, + And to fair London she would go + Her true love to inquire. + + And as she went along the high road, + The weather being hot and dry, + She sat her down upon a green bank, + And her true love came riding by. + + She started up, with a colour so red, + Catching hold of his bridle-rein; + "One penny, one penny, kind sir," she said, + "Will ease me of much pain."-- + + "Before I give you one penny, sweetheart, + Pray tell me where you were born."-- + "At Islington, kind sir," said she, + "Where I have had many a scorn."-- + + "I pr'ythee, sweetheart, then tell to me, + O tell me, whether you know + The bailiffs daughter of Islington."-- + "She is dead, sir, long ago."-- + + "If she be dead, then take my horse, + My saddle and bridle also; + For I will into some far countrie, + Where no man shall me know."-- + + "O stay, O stay, thou goodly youth, + She standeth by thy side: + She is here alive, she is not dead,-- + And ready to be thy bride."-- + + "O farewell grief, and welcome joy, + Ten thousand times therefore! + For now I have found mine own true love, + Whom I thought I should never see more." + + + + +BARBARA ALLEN'S CRUELTY. + + In Scarlet town, where I was born, + There was a fair maid dwellin', + Made every youth cry, Well away! + Her name was Barbara Allen. + + All in the merry month of May, + When green buds they were swellin', + Young Jemmy Grove on his death-bed lay + For love of Barbara Allen. + + He sent his man unto her then, + To the town where she was dwellin'; + "You must come to my master dear, + Gif your name be Barbara Allen. + + "For death is printed on his face, + And o'er his heart is stealin': + Then haste away to comfort him, + O lovely Barbara Allen." + + Though death be printed on his face + And o'er his heart is stealin', + Yet little better shall he be + For bonny Barbara Allen. + + So slowly, slowly, she came up, + And slowly she came nigh him; + And all she said, when there she came, + "Young man, I think y'are dying." + + He turned his face unto her straight, + With deadly sorrow sighing; + "O lovely maid, come pity me, + I'm on my deathbed lying."-- + + "If on your deathbed you do lie, + What needs the tale you are tellin'; + I cannot keep you from your death: + Farewell," said Barbara Allen. + + He turned his face unto the wall, + As deadly pangs he fell in: + "Adieu! adieu! adieu to you all! + Adieu to Barbara Allen!" + + As she was walking o'er the fields, + She heard the bell a knellin'; + And every stroke did seem to say,-- + UNWORTHY BARBARA ALLEN. + + She turned her body round about, + And spied the corpse a coming: + "Lay down, lay down the corpse," she said, + "That I may look upon him." + + With scornful eye she look-ed down, + Her cheek with laughter swellin'; + Whilst all her friends cried out amain, + UNWORTHY BARBARA ALLEN. + + When he was dead, and laid in grave, + Her heart was struck with sorrow, + "O mother, mother, make my bed, + For I shall die to-morrow! + + "Hard-hearted creature him to slight, + Who lov-ed me so dearly: + O that I had been more kind to him, + When he was alive and near me!" + + She, on her deathbed as she lay, + Begged to be buried by him; + And sore repented of the day, + That she did e'er deny him. + + "Farewell," she said, "ye maidens all, + And shun the fault I fell in: + Henceforth take warning by the fall + Of cruel Barbara Allen." + + + + +SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST. + + There came a ghost to Margaret's door, + With many a grievous groan, + And aye he tirl-ed at the pin; + But answer made she none. + + "Is this my father Philip? + Or is't my brother John? + Or is't my true love Willie, + From Scotland new come home?" + + "'Tis not thy father Philip; + Nor yet thy brother John: + But 'tis thy true love Willie + From Scotland new come home. + + "O sweet Margret! O dear Margret! + I pray thee speak to me: + Give me my faith and troth, Margret, + As I gave it to thee." + + "Thy faith and troth thou'se never get, + Of me shalt never win, + Till that thou come within my bower, + And kiss my cheek and chin." + + "If I should come within thy bower, + I am no earthly man: + And should I kiss thy rosy lip, + Thy days will not be lang. + + "O sweet Margret, O dear Margret, + I pray thee speak to me: + Give me my faith and troth, Margret, + As I gave it to thee."-- + + "Thy faith and troth thou'se never get, + Of me shalt never win, + Till thou take me to yon kirkyard, + And wed me with a ring."-- + + "My bones are buried in a kirkyard + Afar beyond the sea, + And it is but my sprite, Margret, + That's speaking now to thee." + + She stretch-ed out her lily-white hand, + As for to do her best: + "Hae there your faith and troth, Willie, + God send your soul good rest!" + + Now she has kilted her robes of green, + A piece below her knee: + And a' the live-lang winter night + The dead corpse followed she. + + "Is there any room at your head, Willie? + Or any room at your feet? + Or any room at your side, Willie, + Wherein that I may creep?" + + "There's nae room at my head, Margret, + There's nae room at my feet, + There's nae room at my side, Margret, + My coffin is made so meet." + + Then up and crew the red red cock, + And up then crew the gray: + "'Tis time, 'tis time, my dear Margret, + That I were gane away." + + No more the ghost to Margret said, + But, with a grievous groan, + Evanished in a cloud of mist, + And left her all alone. + + "O stay, my only true love, stay!" + The constant Margret cried: + Wan grew her cheeks, she closed her een, + Stretched her saft limbs, and died. + + + + +THE BRAES O' YARROW. + + Ten lords sat drinking at the wine, + Intill a morning early; + There fell a combat them among, + It must be fought,--nae parly. + + --"O stay at hame, my ain gude lord, + O stay, my ain dear marrow."-- + "Sweetest mine, I will be thine, + And dine wi' you to-morrow." + + She's kissed his lips, and combed his hair, + As she had done before, O; + Gied him a brand down by his side, + And he is on to Yarrow. + + As he gaed ower yon dowie knowe, + As aft he'd dune before, O; + Nine arm-ed men lay in a den, + Upo' the braes o' Yarrow. + + "O came ye here to hunt or hawk, + As ye hae done before, O? + Or came ye here to wiel' your brand, + Upo' the braes o' Yarrow."-- + + "I came nae here to hunt nor hawk, + As I hae dune before, O; + But I came here to wiel' my brand, + Upon the braes o' Yarrow."-- + + Four he hurt, and five he slew, + Till down he fell himsell, O; + There stood a fause lord him behin', + Who thrust him thro' body and mell, O. + + "Gae hame, gae hame, my brother John, + And tell your sister sorrow; + Your mother to come take up her son, + Aff o' the braes o' Yarrow." + + As he gaed ower yon high, high hill, + As he had dune before, O; + There he met his sister dear, + Came rinnin' fast to Yarrow. + + "I dreamt a dream last night," she says, + "I wish it binna sorrow; + I dreamt I was pu'ing the heather green, + Upo' the braes o' Yarrow."-- + + "I'll read your dream, sister," he says, + "I'll read it into sorrow; + Ye're bidden gae take up your love, + He's sleeping sound on Yarrow." + + She's torn the ribbons frae her head, + They were baith thick and narrow; + She's kilted up her green claithing, + And she's awa' to Yarrow. + + She's taen him in her arms twa, + And gien him kisses thorough, + And wi' her tears she bathed his wounds, + Upo' the braes o' Yarrow. + + Her father looking ower his castle wa', + Beheld his daughter's sorrow; + "O haud yer tongue, daughter," he says, + "And let be a' your sorrow; + I'll wed you wi' a better lord, + Than he that died on Yarrow."-- + + "O haud your tongue, father," she says, + "And let be till to-morrow; + A better lord there coudna be + Than he that died on Yarrow." + + She kissed his lips, and combed his hair, + As she had dune before, O; + Then wi' a crack her heart did brack + Upon the braes o' Yarrow. + + + + +KEMP OWYNE. + + Her mother died when she was young, + Which gave her cause to make great moan; + Her father married the warst woman + That ever lived in Christendom. + + She serv-ed her with foot and hand, + In every thing that she could dee; + Till once in an unlucky time, + She threw her in ower Craigy's sea. + + Says, "Lie you there, dove Isabel, + And all my sorrows lie with thee; + Till Kemp Owyne come ower the sea, + And borrow you with kisses three, + Let all the warld do what they will, + Oh! borrowed shall you never be." + + Her breath grew strang, her hair grew lang, + And twisted thrice about the tree; + And all the people far and near, + Thought that a savage beast was she; + These news did come to Kemp Owyne, + Where he lived far beyond the sea. + + He hasted him to Craigy's sea, + And on the savage beast looked he; + Her breath was strang, her hair was lang, + And twisted was about the tree; + And with a swing she came about, + "Come to Craigy's sea and kiss with me. + + "Here is a royal belt," she cried, + "That I have found in the green sea; + And while your body it is on, + Drawn shall your blood never be; + But if you touch me tail or fin, + I vow my belt your death shall be." + + He stepp-ed in, gave her a kiss, + The royal belt he brought him wi' + Her breath was strang, her hair was lang, + And twisted twice about the tree; + And with a swing she came about, + "Come to Craigy's sea and kiss with me. + + "Here is a royal ring," she said, + "That I have found in the green sea; + And while your finger it is on, + Drawn shall your blood never be; + But if you touch me tail or fin, + I swear my ring your death shall be." + + He stepp-ed in, gave her a kiss, + The royal ring he brought him wi'; + Her breath was strang, her hair was lang, + And twisted ance about the tree; + And with a swing she came about, + "Come to Craigy's sea and kiss with me. + + "Here is a royal brand," she said, + "That I have found in the green sea; + And while your body it is on, + Drawn shall your blood never be; + But if you touch me tail or fin, + I swear my brand your death shall be." + + He stepp-ed in, gave her a kiss, + The royal brand he brought him wi'; + Her breath was sweet, her hair grew short, + And twisted nane about the tree: + And smilingly she came about, + As fair a woman, as fair could be. + + + + +O'ER THE WATER TO CHARLIE. + + As I came by the shore o' Forth, + And in by the craigs o' Bernie; + There I spied a ship on the sea, + And the skipper o' her was Charlie. + + O'er the water, and o'er the sea, + O'er the water to Charlie; + I'll gie John Ross another bawbie, + To boat me o'er to Charlie. + + Charlie keeps nae needles nor pins, + And Charlie keeps nae trappin'; + But Charlie keeps twa bonnie black een, + Would haud the lasses waukin'. + + O'er the water, and o'er the sea, + O'er the water to Charlie; + I'll gie John Ross another bawbie, + To boat me o'er to Charlie. + + O Charlie is neither laird nor lord, + Nor Charlie is a caddie; + But Charlie has twa bonnie red cheeks, + And he's my juggler laddie. + + O'er the water, and o'er the sea, + O'er the water to Charlie; + I'll gie John Ross another bawbie, + To boat me o'er to Charlie. + + A pinch o' snuff to poison the whigs, + A gill o' Geneva to drown them; + And he that winna drink Charlie's health, + May roaring seas surround him. + + O'er the water, and o'er the sea, + And o'er the water to Charlie; + I'll gie John Brown another half-crown, + To boat me o'er to Charlie. + + + + +ADMIRAL HOSIER'S GHOST. + + As near Porto-Bello lying + On the gently swelling flood, + At midnight with streamers flying + Our triumphant navy rode; + There while Vernon sate all-glorious + From the Spaniards' late defeat: + And his crews, with shouts victorious, + Drank success to England's fleet: + + On a sudden shrilly sounding, + Hideous yells and shrieks were heard; + Then each heart with fear confounding, + A sad troop of ghosts appeared, + All in dreary hammocks shrouded, + Which for winding-sheets they wore, + And with looks by sorrow clouded + Frowning on that hostile shore. + + On them gleamed the moon's wan lustre, + When the shade of Hosier brave + His pale bands were seen to muster + Rising from their watery grave. + O'er the glimmering wave he hied him, + Where the Burford reared her sail, + With three thousand ghosts beside him, + And in groans did Vernon hail. + + "Heed, oh heed our fatal story; + I am Hosier's injured ghost, + You who now have purchased glory + At this place where I was lost! + Though in Porto-Bello's ruin + You now triumph free from fears, + When you think on our undoing, + You will mix your joy with tears. + + "See these mournful spectres sweeping + Ghastly o'er this hated wave, + Whose wan cheeks are stained with weeping; + These were English captains brave. + Mark those numbers pale and horrid, + Those were once my sailors bold: + Lo, each hangs his drooping forehead + While his dismal tale is told. + + "I, by twenty sail attended, + Did this Spanish town affright; + Nothing then its wealth defended + But my orders not to fight. + Oh! that in this rolling ocean + I had cast them with disdain, + And obeyed my heart's warm motion + To have quelled the pride of Spain! + + "For resistance I could fear none, + But with twenty ships had done + What thou, brave and happy Vernon + Hast achieved with six alone. + Then the Bastimentos never + Had our foul dishonour seen; + Nor the sea the sad receiver + Of this gallant train had been. + + "Thus, like thee, proud Spain dismaying, + And her galleons leading home, + Though condemned for disobeying, + I had met a traitor's doom, + To have fallen, my country crying + He has played an English part; + Had been better far than dying + Of a grieved and broken heart. + + "Unrepining at thy glory, + Thy successful arms we hail; + But remember our sad story, + And let Hosier's wrongs prevail. + Sent in this foul clime to languish, + Think what thousands fell in vain, + Wasted with disease and anguish, + Not in glorious battle slain. + + "Hence with all my train attending + From their oozy tombs below, + Through the hoary foam ascending, + Here I feed my constant woe: + Here the Bastimentos viewing, + We recall our shameful doom, + And our plaintive cries renewing, + Wander through the midnight gloom. + + "O'er these waves for ever mourning + Shall we roam deprived of rest, + If to Britain's shores returning + You neglect my just request; + After this proud foe subduing, + When your patriot friends you see, + Think on vengeance for my ruin, + And for England shamed in me." + + + + +JEMMY DAWSON. + + Come listen to my mournful tale, + Ye tender hearts, and lovers dear; + Nor will you scorn to heave a sigh, + Nor will you blush to shed a tear. + + And thou, dear Kitty, peerless maid, + Do thou a pensive ear incline; + For thou canst weep at every woe, + And pity every plaint but mine. + + Young Dawson was a gallant youth, + A brighter never trod the plain; + And well he loved one charming maid, + And dearly was he loved again. + + One tender maid she loved him dear, + Of gentle blood the damsel came, + And faultless was her beauteous form, + And spotless was her virgin fame. + + But curse on party's hateful strife, + That led the faithful youth astray + The day the rebel clans appeared: + Oh had he never seen that day! + + Their colours and their sash he wore, + And in the fatal dress was found; + And now he must that death endure, + Which gives the brave the keenest wound. + + How pale was then his true love's cheek, + When Jemmy's sentence reach'd her ear! + For never yet did Alpine snows + So pale nor yet so chill appear. + + With faltering voice she weeping said, + "Oh, Dawson, monarch of my heart, + Think not thy death shall end our loves, + For thou and I will never part. + + "Yet might sweet mercy find a place, + And bring relief to Jemmy's woes, + O GEORGE, without a prayer for thee + My orisons should never close. + + "The gracious prince that gives him life + Would crown a never-dying flame, + And every tender babe I bore + Should learn to lisp the giver's name. + + "But though, dear youth, thou should'st be dragged + To yonder ignominious tree, + Thou shalt not want a faithful friend + To share thy bitter fate with thee." + + O then her mourning-coach was called, + The sledge moved slowly on before; + Though borne in a triumphal car, + She had not loved her favourite more. + + She followed him, prepared to view + The terrible behests of law; + And the last scene of Jemmy's woes + With calm and stedfast eye she saw. + + Distorted was that blooming face, + Which she had fondly loved so long: + And stifled was that tuneful breath, + Which in her praise had sweetly sung: + + And severed was that beauteous neck, + Round which her arms had fondly closed: + And mangled was that beauteous breast, + On which her love-sick head reposed: + + And ravished was that constant heart, + She did to every heart prefer; + For though it could his king forget, + 'Twas true and loyal still to her. + + Amid those unrelenting flames + She bore this constant heart to see; + But when 'twas mouldered into dust, + "Now, now," she cried, "I'll follow thee. + + "My death, my death alone can show + The pure and lasting love I bore: + Accept, O heaven, of woes like ours, + And let us, let us weep no more." + + The dismal scene was o'er and past, + The lover's mournful hearse retired; + The maid drew back her languid head, + And sighing forth his name expired. + + Though justice ever must prevail, + The tear my Kitty sheds is due; + For seldom shall she hear a tale + So sad, so tender, and so true. + + + + +WILLIAM AND MARGARET. + + 'Twas at the silent, solemn hour + When night and morning meet; + In glided Margaret's grimly ghost + And stood at William's feet. + + Her face was like an April morn, + Clad in a wintry cloud: + And clay-cold was her lily-hand, + That held her sable shroud. + + So shall the fairest face appear, + When youth and years are flown: + Such is the robe that kings must wear, + When death has reft their crown. + + Her bloom was like the springing flower, + That sips the silver dew; + The rose was budded in her cheek, + Just opening to the view. + + But Love had, like the canker-worm, + Consumed her early prime: + The rose grew pale, and left her cheek; + She died before her time. + + "Awake!" she cried, "thy true love calls, + Come from her midnight grave; + Now let thy pity hear the maid + Thy love refused to save. + + "This is the dumb and dreary hour + When injured ghosts complain; + When yawning graves give up their dead + To haunt the faithless swain. + + "Bethink thee, William, of thy fault, + Thy pledge and broken oath: + And give me back my maiden vow, + And give me back my troth. + + "Why did you promise love to me, + And not that promise keep? + Why did you swear my eyes were bright, + Yet leave those eyes to weep? + + "How could you say my face was fair, + And yet that face forsake? + How could you win my virgin heart, + Yet leave that heart to break? + + "Why did you say my lip was sweet, + And made the scarlet pale? + And why did I, young witless maid! + Believe the flattering tale? + + "That face, alas! no more is fair; + Those lips no longer red: + Dark are my eyes, now closed in death, + And every charm is fled. + + "The hungry worm my sister is; + This winding sheet I wear: + And cold and weary lasts our night, + Till that last morn appear. + + "But hark! the cock has warned me hence; + A long and late adieu! + Come, see, false man, how low she lies, + Who died for love of you." + + The lark sung loud; the morning smiled, + With beams of rosy red: + Pale William quaked in every limb, + And raving left his bed. + + He hied him to the fatal place + Where Margaret's body lay: + And stretched him on the grass-green turf + That wrapped her breathless clay. + + And thrice he called on Margaret's name, + And thrice he wept full sore: + Then laid his cheek to her cold grave, + And word spoke never more. + + + + +ELFINLAND WOOD. + + Erl William has muntit his gude grai stede, + (Merrie lemis munelicht on the sea,) + And graithit him in ane cumli weid, + (Swa bonilie blumis the hawthorn tree.) + + Erl William rade, Erl William ran,-- + (Fast they ryde quha luve trewlie,) + Quhyll the Elfinland wud that gude Erl wan-- + (Blink ower the burn, sweit may, to mee.) + + Elfinland wud is dern and dreir, + (Merrie is the grai gowkis sang,) + But ilk ane leaf is quhyt as silver cleir, + (Licht makis schoirt the road swa lang.) + + It is undirnith ane braid aik tree, + (Hey and a lo, as the leavis grow grein,) + Thair is kythit ane bricht ladie, + (Manie flouris blume quhilk ar nocht seen.) + + Around hir slepis the quhyte muneschyne, + (Meik is mayden undir kell,) + Her lips bin lyke the blude reid wyne; + (The rois of flouris hes sweitest smell.) + + It was al bricht quhare that ladie stude, + (Far my luve fure ower the sea.) + Bot dern is the lave of Elfinland wud, + (The knicht pruvit false that ance luvit me.) + + The ladie's handis were quhyte als milk, + (Ringis my luve wore mair nor ane.) + Her skin was safter nor the silk; + (Lilly bricht schinis my luvis halse bane.) + + Save you, save you, fayr ladie, + (Gentil hert schawis gentil deed.) + Standand alane undir this auld tree; + (Deir till knicht is nobil steid.) + + Burdalane, if ye dwall here, + (My hert is layed upon this land.) + I wuld like to live your fere; + (The schippis cum sailin to the strand.) + + Nevir ane word that ladie sayd; + (Schortest rede hes least to mend.) + Bot on hir harp she evir playd; + (Thare nevir was mirth that had nocht end.) + + Gang ye eist, or fare ye wast, + (Ilka stern blinkis blythe for thee,) + Or tak ye the road that ye like best, + (Al trew feeris ryde in cumpanie.) + + Erl William loutit doun full lowe. + (Luvis first seid bin courtesie.) + And swung hir owir his saddil bow, + (Ryde quha listis, ye'll link with mee.) + + Scho flang her harp on that auld tree, + (The wynd pruvis aye ane harpir gude.) + And it gave out its music free; + (Birdis sing blythe in gay green wud.) + + The harp playde on its leeful lane, + (Lang is my luvis yellow hair.) + Quhill it has charmit stock and stane, + (Furth by firth, deir lady fare.) + + Quhan scho was muntit him behynd, + (Blyth be hertis quhilkis luve ilk uthir,) + Awa thai flew like flaucht of wind; + (Kin kens kin, and bairnis thair mither.) + + Nevir ane word that ladie spak; + (Mim be maydens men besyde.) + But that stout steid did nicher and schaik; + (Small thingis humbil hertis of pryde.) + + About his breist scho plet her handis; + (Luvand be maydens quhan thai lyke.) + Bot they were cauld as yron bandis. + (The winter bauld bindis sheuch and syke.) + + Your handis ar cauld, fayr ladie, sayd hee, + (The caulder hand the trewer hairt.) + I trembil als the leif on the tree; + (Licht caussis muve ald friendis to pairt.) + + Lap your mantil owir your heid, + (My luve was clad in the red scarlett,) + And spredd your kirtil owir my stede; + (Thair nevir was joie that had nae lett.) + + The ladie scho wald nocht dispute; + (Nocht woman is scho that laikis ane tung.) + But caulder her fingeris about him cruik. + (Some sangis ar writt, bot nevir sung.) + + This Elfinland wud will neir haif end; + (Hunt quha listis, daylicht for mee.) + I wuld I culd ane strang bow bend, + (Al undirneth the grene wood tree.) + + Thai rade up, and they rade doun + (Wearilie wearis wan nicht away.) + Erl William's heart mair cauld is grown; + (Hey, luve mine, quhan dawis the day?) + + Your hand lies cauld on my breist-bane, + (Smal hand hes my ladie fair,) + My horss he can nocht stand his lane, + (For cauldness of this midnicht air.) + + Erl William turnit his heid about; + (The braid mune schinis in lift richt cleir.) + Twa Elfin een are glentin owt, + (My luvis een like twa sternis appere.) + + Twa brennand eyne, sua bricht and full, + (Bonnilie blinkis my ladeis ee,) + Flang fire flaughtis fra ane peelit skull; + (Sum sichts ar ugsomlyk to see.) + + Twa rawis of quhyt teeth then did say, + (Cauld the boysteous windis sal blaw,) + Oh, lang and weary is our way, + (And donkir yet the dew maun fa'.) + + Far owir mure, and far owir fell, + (Hark the sounding huntsmen thrang;) + Thorow dingle, and thorow dell, + (Luve, come, list the merlis sang.) + + Thorow fire, and thorow flude, + (Mudy mindis rage lyk a sea;) + Thorow slauchtir, thorow blude, + (A seamless shrowd weird schaipis for me!) + + And to rede aricht my spell, + Eerilie sal night wyndis moan, + Quhill fleand Hevin and raikand Hell, + Ghaist with ghaist maun wandir on. + + + + +CASABIANCA. + + The boy stood on the burning deck + Whence all but he had fled; + The flame that lit the battle's wreck + Shone round him o'er the dead. + + Yet beautiful and bright he stood, + As born to rule the storm-- + A creature of heroic blood, + A proud, though child-like form. + + The flames rolled on--he would not go + Without his father's word; + That father, faint in death below, + His voice no longer heard. + + He called aloud, "Say, father! say + If yet my task is done!" + He knew not that the chieftain lay + Unconscious of his son. + + "Speak, father!" once again he cried, + "If I may yet be gone!" + And but the booming shots replied, + And fast the flames rolled on. + + Upon his brow he felt their breath, + And in his waving hair, + And looked from that lone post of death + In still yet brave despair; + + And shouted but once more aloud, + "My father! must I stay?" + While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, + The wreathing fires made way. + + They wrapt the ship in splendour wild, + They caught the flag on high, + And streamed above the gallant child + Like banners in the sky. + + There came a burst of thunder-sound-- + The boy--oh! where was he? + Ask of the winds that far around + With fragments strewed the sea,-- + + With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, + That well had borne their part:-- + But the noblest thing which perished there + Was that young faithful heart. + + + + +AULD ROBIN GRAY. + + FIRST PART. + + When the sheep are in the fauld, when the kye's a' at hame, + And a' the weary warld to rest are gane, + The woes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e, + Unkent by my gudeman, wha sleeps sound by me. + + Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me for his bride, + But saving a crown he had naething else beside; + To mak the crown a pound my Jamie gaed to sea, + And the crown and the pound--they were baith for me. + + He hadna been gane a twelvemonth and a day + When my father brake his arm, and the cow was stown away; + My mother she fell sick--my Jamie was at sea-- + And auld Robin Gray came a-courting me. + + My father couldna work, my mother couldna spin, + I toiled day and night, but their bread I couldna win; + Auld Rob maintained them baith, and, wi' tears in his e'e, + Said, "Jeanie, for their sakes, will ye no marry me?" + + My heart it said na, and I looked for Jamie back, + But hard blew the winds, and his ship was a wrack; + His ship was a wrack--why didna Jamie dee? + Or why am I spared to cry, "Woe is me?" + + My father urged me sair--my mother didna speak, + But she looket in my face till my heart was like to break; + They gied him my hand--my heart was in the sea-- + And so Robin Gray he was gudeman to me. + + I hadna been his wife a week but only four, + When, mournfu' as I sat on the stane at my door, + I saw my Jamie's ghaist, for I couldna think it he, + Till he said, "I'm come hame, love, to marry thee." + + Oh! sair, sair did we greet, and mickle say o' a', + I gied him ae kiss and bade him gang awa'. + I wish that I were dead, but I'm no like to dee, + For tho' my heart is broken, I'm young, woe's me! + + I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin, + I darena think on Jamie, for that would be a sin; + But I'll do my best a gude wife to be, + For oh! Robin Gray he is kind to me. + + + + +SECOND PART. + + The winter was come, 'twas simmer nae mair, + And, trembling, the leaves were fleeing thro' th' air; + "O winter," says Jeanie, "we kindly agree, + For the sun he looks wae when he shines upon me." + + Nae longer she mourned, her tears were a' spent; + Despair it was come, and she thought it content-- + She thought it content, but her cheek it grew pale, + And she bent like a lily broke down by the gale. + + Her father and mother observed her decay; + "What ails ye, my bairn?" they ofttimes would say; + "Ye turn round your wheel, but you come little speed, + For feeble's your hand and silly's your thread." + + She smiled when she heard them, to banish their fear, + But wae looks the smile that is seen through a tear, + And bitter's the tear that is forced by a love + Which honour and virtue can never approve. + + Her father was vexed and her mother was wae, + But pensive and silent was auld Robin Gray; + He wandered his lane, and his face it grew lean, + Like the side of a brae where the torrent had been. + + Nae questions he spiered her concerning her health, + He looked at her often, but aye 'twas by stealth; + When his heart it grew grit, and often he feigned + To gang to the door to see if it rained. + + He took to his bed--nae physic he sought, + But ordered his friends all around to be brought; + While Jeanie supported his head in its place, + Her tears trickled down, and they fell on his face. + + "Oh, greet nae mair, Jeanie," said he wi' a groan, + "I'm no worth your sorrow--the truth maun be known; + Send round for your neighbours, my hour it draws near, + And I've that to tell that it's fit a' should hear. + + "I've wronged her," he said, "but I kent it owre late; + I've wronged her, and sorrow is speeding my date; + But a' for the best, since my death will soon free + A faithfu' young heart that was ill matched wi' me. + + "I lo'ed and I courted her mony a day, + The auld folks were for me, but still she said nay; + I kentna o' Jamie, nor yet of her vow, + In mercy forgive me--'twas I stole the cow. + + "I cared not for Crummie, I thought but o' thee-- + I thought it was Crummie stood 'twixt you and me; + While she fed your parents, oh, did you not say + You never would marry wi' auld Robin Gray? + + "But sickness at hame and want at the door-- + You gied me your hand, while your heart it was sore; + I saw it was sore,--why took I her hand? + Oh, that was a deed to my shame o'er the land! + + "How truth soon or late comes to open daylight! + For Jamie cam' back, and your cheek it grew white-- + White, white grew your cheek, but aye true unto me-- + Ay, Jeanie, I'm thankfu'--I'm thankfu' to dee. + + "Is Jamie come here yet?"--and Jamie they saw-- + "I've injured you sair, lad, so leave you my a'; + Be kind to my Jeanie, and soon may it be; + Waste nae time, my dauties, in mourning for me." + + They kissed his cauld hands, and a smile o'er his face + Seemed hopefu' of being accepted by grace; + "Oh, doubtna," said Jamie, "forgi'en he will be-- + Wha wouldna be tempted, my love, to win thee?" + + ***** + + The first days were dowie while time slipt awa', + But saddest and sairest to Jeanie o' a' + Was thinkin' she couldna be honest and right, + Wi' tears in her e'e while her heart was sae light. + + But nae guile had she, and her sorrow away, + The wife of her Jamie, the tear couldna stay; + A bonnie wee bairn--the auld folks by the fire-- + Oh, now she has a' that her heart can desire. + + +***** + + + + +GLOSSARY. + + Abye: First English - abicgan, pay for. + Assoiled: absolved. + Avowe: "I make avowe," I declare; not "I make a vow." + Avow-e: advocate. + Awayte: "awayte me scathe," watch for opportunity of doing hurt to me. + Balis: evils. + Banis: slayers. First English - bana, whence "bane," destruction or + harm. + Barker: tanner. + Bedene: all bedene: bidene: promptly, altogether. + Belife: blive: quickly. + Bent: coarse grass. + Bete: make better, amend. + Bewray: disclose. + Bickered: skirmished. + Blave: stayed. First English - belaf (allied to German blieb.) + Boot: help, remedy. First English - bot. + Borrow: borowe: (noun) security. (verb) give security for. + borowhood: state of being security. + borrowed: redeemed, released by the fulfilment of conditions. + Bra': braw: fine; French - brave. + Braid: at a braid, with a sudden start. + Brittling: breaking up (of the deer) and distribution of its parts + according to the usual custom. + Brook: broke: have use of, enjoy. + Busshement: ambush. + Busk: make self ready. Icelandic - bua, prepare; sik, oneself; + sk, for sik, was in old Norse or Icelandic a suffix marking the + reflexive form of a verb. + Caddie: younger brother. French - cadet, a young fellow who runs on + errands. + Clim: Clement. + Clough: a cliff or fissure of rock, a glen between steep banks. + Con thank: know thanks to be owing; therefore, pay thanks. + Coresed: cuirassed, harnessed. + Dang: struck, forced. + Dauties: darlings. + Dee: as in Kemp Owyne; do. + Dele: division, "never a dele," never a bit. + Dereworthy: precious. + Derne: secret. + Devilkins: of the devil's kind. + Dight: made ready; dightand: being made ready. + Do gladly: make good cheer. + Do him drink: make him drink. + Donkir: moister. + Dowie: dull, sorrowful. + Dree: suffer, endure. + Dule: sorrow. French - deuil. + Eftsoons: again soon, soon after. + Fause: false. + Fay: faith. + Fend of: defend from. + Fere: companion. In fere: in companionship, together. + Ferre and fremd bestad: one from afar and among strangers. + Fet: fetched. + Flattered: floated to and fro. + Flyte: scold. + Fone: foes. + Force: no force: of no importance, no matter. + Forthinketh: repenteth. + Fosters of the fee: foresters in charge of the stock of deer. + Fou: bushel. + Freke: fighting-man. + Frese: curl, bend. + Fynly: substantial, heavy. First English - findig; Prov. Scot. - + findy. + Fytte: canto, song. First English - fitt (fem.) a song, poem. + Gane: (as in Sir Patrick Spens) convenient, proper for. + Garred me gang: made me go; Gang maiden: remain unmarried. + Gest: deed, adventure. + Gif: if. + Glede: live-coal. + Glent: passed suddenly, flashed. + Goodman: the master of the "good" or little property of house and + field. There is the same sense of "good" in the first + use of "goodwife," or "goody." + Gowk: cuckoo. + Grain, cloth in: cloth of special quality with a fast purple dye. + Graithit him: dressed himself. + Gramercy: great thanks. French - grand merci. + Gree: satisfaction. + Gurly: gurgly. + Halfendell: the half part. + Halk: flat ground by a river. + Halse bane: neck bone. + Haud: hold. + Hie: high. First English - heah. + Hie: make haste. First English - higan. + Hilt: covering. + Ilke: same. + Iwis: certainly. First English - gewis. For the prefix i-, + answering to First English and German ge-, see Y-. This + old adverb is often printed as if the prefix were the + pronoun I and wis were a verb. + Japes: trivial mockings. + Jimp: slender. + Kell: coif, woman's headdress. + Kipples: rafters. + Knowe: knoll, little hill. + Lap: started, were rent. + Launsgay: lancegay, a form of spear. + Lease: leasing: falsehood. + Leeful: "its leeful lane," "its lane," alone; a Scottish idiom + joins to "lane" the genitive pronoun, "his lane," + "their lane," etc. "Leeful," compassionate, the harp + played of itself compassionately. + Lemes: gleams. + Lend: give. See Robin Hood - God lend. First English - laenan, + to give, lend. + Lend: dwell, come into contact. See Robin Hood - "when ye + together lend." Icelandic - lenda, to land; lendir saman, + come close together. + Lere: learn, teach. First English - laeran. See Robin Hood - + "this lesson shall we lere;" + Lere: face. First English - hleor. See Robin Hood - "fell down + by his lere." + Let: hinder. Letting: hindrance. + Lewte: loyalty. + Lift: sky. + Linde: lime-tree. + Linn: torrent; also the pool under a torrent of water. + Lithe: listen. Icelandic - alyoa, to listen. + Liveray: what is 'livre,' or delivered, as a 'livree' of clothes, + food, etc. + Lodge: dwelling in a forest, as originally made of boughs and leaves. + Lough: laughed. + Lourdain: blockhead. + Lown: loon, dull, base fellow. + Makis: husbands. + Male: bag. + Manople: a large gauntlet protecting hand and fore-arm. + March parti: border side. + Masars: bowls or goblets. + May: maid. + Meany: meynie: body of retainers, or domestic following. + Meet: narrow. First English - maete, little. + Met: mete: measured. + Mister: need. + Mo: more. + Mort: the note sounded at death of the deer. + Mote I thee: May I thrive. First English - theon, to thrive. + Mote: meeting for decision of cases in ecclesiastical or civil law, or + for other public purposes, as ward-mote, etc. Strong men were + said to oppress the weak by being "mighty to mote." + Nicher: neigh. + Numbles: liver, kidneys, etc. French - nombles. The word was + often written in English umbles and humbles. The umbles, + with skin, head, chine, and shoulders of the deer, were + the keepers' share in the brittling. There was a receipt + for "umble pie" in the old cookery. To "eat humble pie" + was to dine with the servants instead of from the + haunch at the high table. + Okerer: usurer. + Pace: pass. + Pay: satisfaction. The old sense of the word in the phrase "it + does not pay"--does not give satisfaction. A man could be + served "to his pay," meaning in a way that satisfied or + pleased him. + Pieces: drinking-cups. + Pluck-buffet: whichever made a bad shot drew on himself a buffet from + his competitor. + Prest: ready. Prestly: readily. French - pret. + Prief: proof. + Proseyla: Venus' shells, porcelain. + Pye: coat a py: a rough coarse cloth. Dutch - py, or a coat made + from it. The word remains in our "pea-coat." + Quarry: the skin of the deer on which entrails, etc. were piled as the + dogs' share of the spoil. French - cuiree, from cuir, hide. + To be distinguished from the quarry, a square bolt for + the crossbow, or the quarry or squared stones, both from + Latin - quadratus. + Quh: = Wh. + Quite: requite. + Ray: striped cloth. + Raikand: ranging. + Rawe: row. + Rede: counsel. + Reve: plunder. + Room: space or spacious. "The warldis room," the space of the + world; or "The warld is room," the world is wide. + Salved: saluted. + Scheuch and syke: furrow and rill. + Seid: seed. + Shaw: covert of the wood. + Shear: in different directions. First English - sciran, to divide. + Shend: blame; shent: blamed. + Shete: shoot. + Shot-window: according to Ritson, is a window that opens and shuts. + Sicker and sad: sure and firm. + Sigh-clout: sieve-cloth. + Somers: sumpter horses. + Spleen, on the: in anger or discontent. The spleen was once + supposed to be the seat of anger and discontent. + Spurn: strife, as a kicking against. "That tear began this spurn," + that rent began this strife. + Stalworthy: stalwart. + Stound: space of time. + Stour: conflict. + Stown: stolen. + Suar: heavy. First English - swaer. + Tarpe: probably a misprint for targe. In the Promptorium Parvulorum we + have the "Targe, or chartyr--carta." + Tene: vexation, sorrow. + Thee, mote I: may I thrive. See Mote. + Threap: argue back pertinaciously. + Throw: space of time. + Tine: lose. + Tirled: twirled. + To-broke: "to" is intensive. + Told: counted. + Tone: the tone = that one, as the tother = that other; "that" + being the old neuter of "the." + Tray: surly, unwillingly. Icelandic - thra, obstinate. First English - + thrafian, to blame. + Tynde: horns of hart. + Unketh: unknown, unexpected. + Unneth: not easily. + Voided: quitted the place. + Wap: throw quickly. + Weal: twist. + Wed: pledge. + Weird: fate. + Well away: wo, alas, wo! First English - wa, eala, wa! + Welt them: tumbled them over. First English waeltan, to roll or + tumble. + Wight: a being. + Wite: wete: weet: know. + Wone: crowd. + Wonning wan: where is thy, in what direction is thy home? "Wan" is an + adverbial affix with the sense of Latin versus. + Wood: wode: mad. + Woolward: clothed only in wool. + Wough: "wo and wough." First English - wo, wa, the cry of lament for + evil. Wough, First English - woh, is the evil done; the first + sense of the word is a swerving from the right line, then wrong + and evil. + Y- and I- as prefix = the participial prefix ge- (g being pronounced + like y before the weak vowel e). So y-dight: y-granted: + y-slaw: I-nocked. + Yede: yode: First English - eode, went. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Bundle of Ballads, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BUNDLE OF BALLADS *** + +***** This file should be named 2831.txt or 2831.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/3/2831/ + +Produced by Les Bowler + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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