Of no man had they dreade;
The porter came after and dyd them call,
And with them began to chyde.
The ussher sayed, "Yemen, what wold ye haue? 65
I pray you tell me;
You myght thus make offycers shent:
Good syrs, of whence be ye?"
"Syr, we be outlawes of the forest,
Certayne without any leace, 70
And hether we be come to our kyng,
To get us a charter of peace."
And whan they came before the kyng,
As it was the lawe of the lande,
The[y] kneled downe without lettyng, 75
And eche held up his hand.
The[y] sayed, "Lord, we beseche the here,
That ye wyll graunt us grace,
For we haue slaine your fat falow der,
In many a sondry place." 80
"What be your nam[e]s?" then said our king,
"Anone that you tell me:
They sayd, "Adam Bel, Clim of the Clough,
And Wyllyam of Cloudeslè."
"Be ye those theves," then sayd our kyng, 85
"That men have tolde of to me?
Here to god I make a vowe,
Ye shal be hanged al thre.
"Ye shal be dead without mercy,
As I am kynge of this lande." 90
He commanded his officers everichone
Fast on them to lay hand.
There they toke these good yemen,
And arested them all thre:
"So may I thryve," sayd Adam Bell, 95
"Thys game lyketh not me.
"But, good lorde, we beseche you now,
That you graunt vs grace,
Insomuche as we be to you comen,
Or els that we may fro you passe, 100
"With such weapons as we have here,
Tyll we be out of your place;
And yf we lyve this hundreth yere,
We wyll aske you no grace."
"Ye speake proudly," sayd the kynge, 105
"Ye shall be hanged all thre:"
"That were great pitye," then sayd the quene,
"If any grace myght be.
"My lorde, whan I came fyrst into this lande,
To be your wedded wyfe, 110
The fyrst bowne that I wold aske,
Ye would graunt it me belyfe;
"And I asked never none tyll now,
Therefore, good lorde, graunte it me."
"Now aske it, madam," sayd the kynge, 115
"And graunted shall it be."
"Then, my good lord, I you beseche,
These yemen graunt ye me:"
"Madame, ye myght have asked a bowne
That shuld have ben worth them all thre. 120
"Ye myght have asked towres and town[es],
Parkes and forestes plenty."
"None so pleasaunt to mi pay," she said,
"Nor none so lefe to me."
"Madame, sith it is your desyre, 125
Your askyng graunted shal be;
But I had lever have geven you
Good market townes thre."
The quene was a glad woman,
And sayd, "Lord, gramarcy; 130
I dare undertake for them,
That true men shal they be.
"But, good lord, speke som mery word,
That comfort they may se."
"I graunt you grace," then said our king, 135
"Wasshe, felos, and to meate go ye."
They had not setten but a whyle,
Certayne without lesynge,
There came messengers out of the north,
With letters to our kynge. 140
And whan the[y] came before the kynge,
They kneled downe vpon theyr kne,
And sayd, "Lord, your offycers grete you wel,
Of Caerlel in the north cuntrè."
"How fare[s] my justice," sayd the kyng, 145
"And my sherife also?"
"Syr, they be slayne, without leasynge,
And many an officer mo."
"Who hath them slayne?" sayd the kyng,
"Anone thou tell me:" 150
"Adam Bel, and Clime of the Clough,
And Wyllyam of Cloudeslè."
"Alas for rewth!" then sayd our kynge,
"My hart is wonderous sore;
I had leuer [th]an a thousand pounde, 155
I had knowne of thys before.
"For I have graunted them grace,
And that forthynketh me,
But had I knowne all thys before,
They had been hanged all thre." 160
The kyng opened the letter anone,
Hymselfe he red it th[r]o,
And founde how these thre outlawes had slaine
Thre hundred men and mo.
Fyrst the justice and the sheryfe, 165
And the mayre of Caerlel towne;
Of all the constables and catchipolles
Alyve were left not one.
The baylyes and the bedyls both,
And the sergeauntes of the law, 170
And forty fosters of the fe,
These outlawes had yslaw,
And broke his parks, and slaine his dere;
Over all they chose the best;
So perelous outlawes as they were, 175
Walked not by easte nor west.
When the kynge this letter had red,
In hys harte he syghed sore;
"Take vp the table anone," he bad,
"For I may eate no more." 180
The kyng called hys best archars,
To the buttes with hym to go;
"I wylle se these felowes shote," he sayd,
In the north have wrought this wo."
The kynges bowmen buske them blyve, 185
And the quenes archers also,
So dyd these thre wyght yemèn,
Wyth them they thought to go.
There twyse or thryse they shote about,
For to assay theyr hande; 190
There was no shote these yemen shot,
That any prycke might them stand.
Then spake Wyllyam of Cloudeslè,
"By him that for me dyed,
I hold hym never no good archar 195
That shuteth at buttes so wyde."
"Wherat?" then sayd our kyng,[L197]
"I pray thee tell me:"
"At such a but, syr," he sayd,
"As men use in my countree." 200
Wyllyam went into a fyeld,
And his to brethren with him,
There they set vp to hasell roddes,
Twenty score paces betwene.
"I hold him an archar," said Cloudeslè, 205
"That yonder wande cleveth in two:"
"Here is none suche," sayd the kyng,
"Nor none that can so do."
"I shall assaye, syr," sayd Cloudeslè,
"Or that I farther go:" 210
Cloudeslè, with a bearyng arow,
Clave the wand in to.
"Thou art the best archer," then said the king,
"Forsothe that ever I se:"
"And yet for your love," said Wylliam, 215
"I wyll do more maystry.
"I have a sonne is seven yere olde,[L217]
He is to me full deare;
I wyll hym tye to a stake,
All shall se that be here; 220
"And lay an apele upon hys head,
And go syxe score paces hym fro,
And I myselfe, with a brode arow,
Shall cleve the apple in two."
"Now haste the," then sayd the kyng, 225
"By him that dyed on a tre;
But yf thou do not as thou hast sayde,[L227]
Hanged shalt thou be.
"And thou touche his head or gowne,
In syght that men may se, 230
By all the sayntes that be in heaven,
I shall hange you all thre."
"That I have promised," said William,
"I wyl it never forsake;"
And there even before the kynge, 235
In the earth he droue a stake,
And bound therto his eldest sonne,
And bad hym stande styll therat,
And turned the childes face fro him,
Because he shuld not sterte. 240
An apple upon his head he set,
And then his bowe he bent;
Syxe score paces they were out met,
And thether Cloudeslè went.
There he drew out a fayr brode arrowe, 245
Hys bowe was great and longe,
He set that arrowe in his bowe,
That was both styffe and stronge.
He prayed the people that was there,
That they would styll stande, 250
"For he that shooteth for such a wager,
Behoveth a stedfast hand."
Muche people prayed for Cloudeslè,
That hys lyfe saved myght be,
And whan he made hym redy to shote, 255
There was many a weping eye.
Thus Cloudeslè clefte the apple in two,
That many a man myght se;[L258]
"Over gods forbode," sayde the kynge,
"That thou shote at me! 260
"I geve the xviii. pence a day,
And my bowe shalt thou beare,
And over all the north countre,
I make the chyfe rydere."
"And I geve the xvii. pence a day," said the quene, 265
"By god and by my fay;
Come feche thy payment when thou wylt,
No man shall say the nay.
"Wyllyam, I make the a gentelman,
Of clothyng and of fe, 270
And thi two brethren yemen of my chambre,
For they are so semely to se.
"Your sonne, for he is tendre of age,
Of my wyne-seller shall he be,
And whan he commeth to mannes estate, 275
Better avaunced shall he be.
"And, Wylliam, bring me your wife," said the quene,
Me longeth her sore to se;
She shal be my chefe gentelwoman,
To governe my nursery." 280
The yemen thanketh them full curteously,
And sayde, "To some bysshop wyl we wend,
Of all the synnes that we have done
To be assoyld at his hand."
So forth be gone these good yemen, 285
As fast as they myght hye,
And after came and dwelled with the kynge,
And dyed good men all thre.
Thus endeth the lives of these good yemen,
God send them eternall blysse, 290
And all that with hande bowe shoteth,
That of heaven may never mysse!
176, trusty, R.
177, there, C.
181, nowe, C.
184, drynke, R.
186. Another I wyll, R.
2, trusty, R.
3, they, R.
9, brethen.
11, supplied from a modern edition.
12, put out, R.
18, thus, trusty, R.
20, had.
24, brethen.
31, graece.
37, whent.
45, at our, R.
51, you breng, R.
197. At what a butte now, wold ye shot. PERCY.
227, hest.
217-258. For remarks upon this passage in the story, see the preface
to the ballad.
258. His son he did not nee. PERCY.
ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE.
This ballad was derived from the Percy Manuscript, and is printed in
the _Reliques_, i. 84 (ed. 1794), with some alterations by the Editor.
"As for Guy of Gisborne," says Ritson, "the only further memorial
which has occurred concerning him is in an old satirical piece by
William Dunbar, a celebrated Scottish poet of the fifteenth century,
on one "Schir Thomas Nory," (MS. Maitland, p. 3, MMS. More, Ll. 5,
10,) where he is named along with our hero, Adam Bell, and other
worthies, it is conjectured of a similar stamp, but whose merits have
not, less fortunately, come to the knowledge of posterity.
"Was nevir WEILD ROBEINE under bewch,
Nor yitt Roger of Clekkislewch,
So bauld a bairne as he;
GY OF GYSBURNE, na Allane Bell,
Na Simones sones of Quhynsell,
Off thocht war nevir so slie."
"Gisborne is a market town in the west riding of the county of York,
on the borders of Lancashire."
When shaws beene sheene, and shradds full fayre,[L1]
And leaves both large and longe,
Itt is merrye walkyng in the fayre forrèst,
To heare the small birdes songe.
The woodweele sang, and wold not cease, 5
Sitting upon the spraye,
Soe lowde, he wakened Robìn Hood,
In the greenwood where he lay.
"Now, by my faye," sayd jollye Robìn,
"A sweaven I had this night; 10
I dreamt me of tow wight yemèn,[L11]
That fast with me can fight.
"Methought they did mee beate and binde,
And tooke my bowe mee froe;
Iff I be Robin alive in this lande, 15
Ile be wroken on them towe."
"Sweavens are swift, master," quoth John,
"As the wind that blowes ore a hill;
For iff itt be never so loude this night,
To-morrow itt may be still." 20
"Buske yee, bowne yee, my merry men all,
And John shall goe with mee,
For Ile goe seeke yond wight yeomèn,
In greenwood where they bee."[L24]
Then they cast on their gownes of grene, 25
And tooke theyr bowes each one;
And they away to the greene forrèst[L27]
A shooting forth are gone;
Until they came to the merry greenwood,
Where they had gladdest bee; 30
There were they ware of a wight yeomàn,[L31]
His body leaned to a tree.
A sword and a dagger he wore by his side,
Of manye a man the bane;
And he was clad in his capull hyde, 35
Topp and tayll and mayne.
"Stand you still, master," quoth Litle John,
"Under this tree so grene,
And I will go to yond wight yeomàn,
To know what he doth meane." 40
"Ah! John, by me thou settest noe store,
And that I farley finde:
How offt send I my men beffore,
And tarry my selfe behinde?
"It is no cunning a knave to ken, 45
And a man but heare him speake;
And itt were not for bursting of my bowe,
John, I thy head wold breake."
As often wordes they breeden bale,
So they parted Robin and John; 50
And John is gone to Barnesdale;
The gates he knoweth eche one.
But when he came to Barnesdale,
Great heavinesse there hee hadd,
For he found tow of his owne fellòwes, 55
Were slaine both in a slade.
And Scarlette he was flying a-foote
Fast over stocke and stone,
For the sheriffe with seven score men
Fast after him is gone. 60
"One shoote now I will shoote," quoth John,
"With Christ his might and mayne;
Ile make yond fellow that flyes soe fast,
To stopp he shall be fayne."
Then John bent up his long bende-bowe, 65
And fetteled him to shoote:
The bowe was made of tender boughe,
And fell downe to his foote.
"Woe worth, woe worth thee, wicked wood,
That ere thou grew on a tree! 70
For now this day thou art my bale,
My boote when thou shold bee."
His shoote it was but loosely shott,
Yet flewe not the arrowe in vaine,
For itt mett one of the sheriffes men, 75
Good William a Trent was slaine.
It had bene better of William a Trent
To have bene abed with sorrowe,
Than to be that day in the greenwood slade
To meet with Little Johns arrowe. 80
But as it is said, when men be mett
Fyve can doe more than three,
The sheriffe hath taken Little John,
And bound him fast to a tree.
"Thou shalt be drawen by dale and downe, 85
And hanged hye on a hill;"
"But thou mayst fayle of thy purpose," quoth John,
"If itt be Christ his will."
Lett us leave talking of Little John,
And thinke of Robin Hood, 90
How he is gone to the wight yeomàn,
Where under the leaves he stood.
"Good morrowe, good fellowe," sayd Robin so fayre,
"Good morrowe, good fellow, quoth he:
Methinkes by this bowe thou beares in thy hande, 95
A good archere thou sholdst bee."
"I am wilfulle of my waye," quo' the yemàn,
"And of my morning tyde:"
"Ile lead thee through the wood," sayd Robin,
"Good, fellow, Ile be thy guide." 100
"I seeke an outlawe," the straunger sayd,
"Men call him Robin Hood:
Rather Ild meet with that proud outlawe
Than fortye pound soe good."
"Now come with me, thou wight yemàn,[L105] 105
And Robin thou soone shalt see;
But first let us some pastime find
Under the greenwood tree.
"First let us some masterye make
Among the woods so even; 110
We may chance to meet with Robin Hood
Here att some unsett steven."
They cutt them downe two summer shroggs,
That grew both under a breere,
And sett them threescore rood in twaine, 115
To shoote the prickes y-fere.
"Leade on, good fellowe," quoth Robin Hood,
"Leade on, I do bidd thee;"
"Nay, by my faith, good fellowe," hee sayd,
"My leader thou shalt bee." 120
The first time Robin shot at the pricke,
He mist but an inch it fro;
The yeoman was an archer good,
But he cold never shoote soe.
The second shoote had the wighte yemàn,[L125] 125
He shote within the garlànde;
But Robin he shott far better than hee,
For he clave the good pricke-wande.
"A blessing upon thy heart," he sayd,
"Good fellowe, thy shooting is goode; 130
For an thy hart be as good as thy hand,
Thou wert better then Robin Hoode.
"Now tell me thy name, good fellowe," sayd he,
"Under the leaves of lyne;"
"Nay, by my faith," quoth bolde Robin, 135
"Till thou have told me thine."
"I dwell by dale and downe," quoth hee,
"And Robin to take Ime sworne;
And when I am called by my right name,
I am Guye of good Gisbòrne." 140
"My dwelling is in this wood," sayes Robin,
"By thee I set right nought:
I am Robin Hood of Barnésdale,
Whom thou so long hast sought."
He that had nether beene kithe nor kin 145
Might have seene a full fayre fight,
To see how together these yeomen went
With blades both browne and bright:
To see how these yeomen together they fought
Two howres of a summers day, 150
Yett neither Robin Hood nor sir Guy
Them fettled to flye away.
Robin was reachles on a roote,
And stumbled at that tyde;
And Guy was quicke and nimble withall, 155
And hitt him ore the left side.
"Ah, deere Ladye," sayd Robin Hood tho,
"Thou art both mother and may;
I think it was never mans destinye
To dye before his day." 160
Robin thought on our ladye deere,
And soone leapt up againe,
And strait he came with an awkwarde stroke,
And he sir Guy hath slayne.
He took sir Guys head by the hayre, 165
And sticked itt on his bowes end:
"Thou hast beene a traytor all thy liffe,
Which thing must have an end."
Robin pulled forth an Irish kniffe,
And nicked sir Guy in the face, 170
That he was never on woman born
Cold tell whose head it was.
Sayes, "Lye there, lye there now, sir Guye,
And with me be not wrothe;
Iff thou have had the worse strokes at my hand, 175
Thou shalt have the better clothe."
Robin did off his gowne of greene,
And on sir Guy did it throwe,
And hee put on that capull hyde,
That cladd him topp to toe. 180
"The bowe, the arrowes, and litle horne,
Now with me I will beare;
For I will away to Barnésdale,
To see how my men doe fare."
Robin Hood sett Guyes horne to his mouth, 185
And a loud blast in it did blow:
That beheard the sheriffe of Nottingham,
As he leaned under a lowe.
"Hearken, hearken," sayd the sheriffe,
"I heare nowe tydings good, 190
For yonder I heare sir Guyes horne blowe,
And he hath slaine Robin Hoode.
"Yonder I heare sir Guyes horne blowe,
Itt blowes soe well in tyde,
And yonder comes that wight yeomàn,[L195] 195
Cladd in his capull hyde.
"Come hyther, come hyther, thou good sir Guy,
Aske what thou wilt of mee:"
"O I will none of thy gold," sayd Robin,
"Nor I will none of thy fee. 200
"But now I have slaine the master," he sayes,
"Let me goe strike the knave;
This is all the rewarde I aske,
Nor noe other will I have."
"Thou art a madman," said the sheriffe, 205
"Thou sholdest have had a knights fee;
But seeing thy asking hath beene soe bad,
Well granted it shale be."
When Litle John heard his master speake,
Well knewe he it was his steven; 210
"Now shall I be looset," quoth Litle John,
"With Christ his might in heaven."
Fast Robin hee hyed him to Little John,
He thought to loose him belive:
The sheriffe and all his companye 215
Fast after him did drive.
"Stand abacke, stand abacke," sayd Robin,
"Why draw you mee soe neere?
It was never the use in our countrye,
Ones shrift another shold heere." 220
But Robin pulled forth an Irysh knife,
And losed John hand and foote,
And gave him sir Guyes bow into his hand,
And bade it be his boote.
Then John he took Guyes bow in his hand, 225
His boltes and arrowes eche one:
When the sheriffe saw Little John bend his bow,
He fettled him to be gone.
Towards his house in Nottingham towne
He fled full fast away, 230
And soe did all the companye,
Not one behind wold stay.
But he cold neither runne soe fast,
Nor away soe fast cold ryde,
But Litle John with an arrowe soe broad 235
He shott him into the backe-syde.
MS. 1, shales, for shaws.
11, wighty.
24, the.
27, 31, the.
105, wighty.
125, wightye.
195, wightye.
THE BIRTH OF ROBIN HOOD.
"The following ballad was taken down by the Editor from the recitation
of Mrs. Brown, and is here given without the alteration of a single
word."--_Jamieson_, _Popular Ballads_, ii. 44.
Another version of the same is printed in the Appendix from Buchan's
collections.
O Willie's large o' limb and lith,
And come o' high degree;
And he is gone to Earl Richard
To serve for meat and fee.
Earl Richard had but ae daughter, 5
Fair as a lily flower;
And they made up their love-contract
Like proper paramour.
It fell upon a simmers nicht,
Whan the leaves were fair and green, 10
That Willie met his gay ladie
Intil the wood alane.
"O narrow is my gown, Willie,
That wont to be sae wide;
And gane is a' my fair colour, 15
That wont to be my pride.
"But gin my father should get word
What's past between us twa,
Before that he should eat or drink,
He'd hang you o'er that wa. 20
"But ye'le come to my bower, Willie,
Just as the sun goes down;
And kep me in your arms twa,
And latna me fa' down."
O whan the sun was now gane down, 25
He's doen him till her bower;
And there, by the lee licht o' the moon,
Her window she lookit o'er.
Intill a robe o' red scarlet
She lap, fearless o' harm; 30
And Willie was large o' lith and limb,
And keepit her in his arm.
And they've gane to the gude green-wood,
And ere the night was deen,
She's borne to him a bonny young son, 35
Amang the leaves sae green.
Whan night was gane, and day was come,
And the sun began to peep,
Up and raise the Earl Richard
Out o' his drowsy sleep. 40
He's ca'd upon his merry young men,
By ane, by twa, and by three,
"O what's come o' my daughter dear,
That she's nae come to me?
"I dreamt a dreary dream last night, 45
God grant it come to gude!
I dreamt I saw my daughter dear
Drown in the saut sea flood.
"But gin my daughter be dead or sick,
Or yet be stown awa, 50
I mak a vow, and I'll keep it true,
I'll hang ye ane and a!"
They sought her back, they sought her fore,
They sought her up and down;
They got her in the gude green wood, 55
Nursing her bonny young son.
He took the bonny boy in his arms,
And kist him tenderlie;
Says, "Though I would your father hang,
Your mother's dear to me." 60
He kist him o'er and o'er again;
"My grandson I thee claim;
And Robin Hood in gude green wood,
And that shall be your name."
And mony ane sings o' grass, o' grass, 65
And mony ane sings o' corn;
And mony ane sings o' Robin Hood,
Kens little whare he was born.
It was na in the ha', the ha',
Nor in the painted bower; 70
But it was in the gude green wood,
Amang the lily flower.
ROSE THE RED, AND WHITE LILLY.
_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 208.
This legend and the preceding are placed in this volume solely on
account of the names given to the personages who figure in them. In
character they have no affinity with the recognized circle of Robin
Hood ballads. The story is of a more ancient cast, and also of a type
common to the northern nations, and we have no doubt that Robin Hood
and Little John were in the day of their popularity made to displace
heroes of immemorial prescription, in order to give eclat to an old
tale.
Of _Rose the Red, and White Lilly_, three versions have been
published. The present is that of Scott, given "chiefly" from Mrs.
Brown's manuscript. Kinloch's is subjoined, and another, furnished by
Buchan, is printed in the Appendix.
O Rose the Red, and White Lilly,
Their mother deir was dead;
And their father has married an ill woman,
Wish'd them twa little guid.
But she had twa as gallant sons 5
As ever brake mans bread;
And the tane o' them lo'ed her, White Lilly,
And the tother Rose the Red.
O bigged hae they a bigly bour,
Fast by the roaring strand; 10
And there was mair mirth in the ladyes bour,
Nor in a' their fathers land.
But out and spak their step-mother,
As she stood a little forebye--
"I hope to live and play the prank 15
Sall gar your loud sang lie."
She's call'd upon her eldest son,
"Cum here, my son, to me:
It fears me sair, my Bauld Arthur,
That ye maun sail the sea." 20
"Gin sae it maun be, my deir mother,
Your bidding I maun dee;
But, be never waur to Rose the Red,
Than ye hae been to me."
She's called upon her youngest son, 25
"Cum here, my son, to me:
It fears me sair, my Brown Robin,
That ye maun sail the sea."
"Gin it fear ye sair, my mother deir,
Your bidding I shall dee; 30
But, be never waur to White Lilly,
Than ye hae been to me."
"Now haud your tongues, ye foolish boys,
For small sall be their part:
They ne'er again sall see your face, 35
Gin their very hearts suld break."
Sae Bauld Arthur's gane to our king's court,
His hie chamberlain to be;
But Brown Robin, he has slain a knight,
And to grene-woode he did flee. 40
When Rose the Red, and White Lilly,
Saw their twa loves were gane,
Sune did they drop the loud loud sang,
Took up the still mourning.
And out then spake her White Lilly; 45
"My sister, we'll be gane:
Why suld we stay in Barnisdale,
To mourn our bour within?"
O cutted hae they their green cloathing,
A little abune their knee, 50
And sae hae they their yellow hair,
A little abune their bree.
And left hae they that bonny bour,
To cross the raging sea;
And they hae ta'en to a holy chapel, 55
Was christened by Our Ladye.
And they hae changed their twa names,
Sae far frae ony toun;
And the tane o' them's hight Sweet Willie,
And the tother's Rouge the Rounde. 60
Between the twa a promise is,
And they hae sworn it to fulfil;
Whenever the tane blew a bugle-horn,
The tother suld cum her till.
Sweet Willie's gane to the kings court, 65
Her true love for to see;
And Rouge the Rounde to gude grene-wood,
Brown Robin's man to be.
O it fell anes, upon a time,
They putted at the stane; 70
And seven foot ayont them a',
Brown Robin's gar'd it gang.
She lifted the heavy putting-stane,
And gave a sad "Ohon!"
Then out bespake him, Brown Robin, 75
"But that's a woman's moan!"
"O kent ye by my rosy lips?
Or by my yellow hair?
Or kent ye by my milk-white breast,
Ye never yet saw bare?" 80
"I kent na by your rosy lips;
Nor by your yellow hair;
But, cum to your bour whaever likes,
They'll find a ladye there."
"O gin ye come my bour within, 85
Through fraud, deceit, or guile,
Wi' this same brand, that's in my hand,
I vow I will thee kill."
"Yet durst I cum into your bour,
And ask nae leave," quo' he; 90
"And wi' this same brand, that's in my hand,
Wave danger back on thee."
About the dead hour o' the night,
The ladye's bour was broken;
And, about the first hour o' the day, 95
The fair knave bairn was gotten.
When days were gane, and months were come,
The ladye was sad and wan;
And aye she cried for a bour woman,
For to wait her upon. 100
Then up and spake him, Brown Robin,
"And what needs this?" quo' he;
"Or what can woman do for you,
That canna be done by me?"
"'Twas never my mothers fashion," she said, 105
"Nor shall it e'er be mine,
That belted knights should e're remain
While ladyes dree'd their pain.
"But gin ye take that bugle-horn,
And wind a blast sae shrill, 110
I hae a brother in yonder court,
Will come me quickly till."
"O gin ye hae a brother on earth,
That ye lo'e mair than me,
Ye may blow the horn yoursell," he says, 115
"For a blast I winna gie."