And blawn baith loud and shrill;
Sweet William started at the sound,
And came her quickly till. 120
O up and starts him, Brown Robin,
And swore by Our Ladye,
"No man shall come into this bour,
But first maun fight wi' me."
O they hae fought the wood within, 125
Till the sun was going down;
And drops o' blood frae Rose the Red
Came pouring to the ground.
She leant her back against an aik,
Said, "Robin, let me be; 130
For it is a ladye, bred and born,
That has fought this day wi' thee."
O seven foot he started back,
Cried, "Alas and woe is me!
For I wished never, in all my life, 135
A woman's bluid to see:
"And that all for the knightly vow
I swore to Our Ladye;
But mair for the sake o' ae fair maid,
Whose name was White Lilly." 140
Then out and spake her Rouge the Rounde,
And leugh right hertilie,
"She has been wi' ye this year and mair,
Though ye wistna it was she."
Now word is gane through all the land, 145
Before a month was gane,
That a foresters page, in gude grene-wood,
Had born a bonny son.
The marvel gaed to the kings court,
And to the king himsell; 150
"Now, by my fae," the king did say,
"The like was never heard tell!"
Then out and spake him Bauld Arthur,
And laugh'd right loud and hie--
"I trow some may has plaid the lown, 155
And fled her ain countrie."
"Bring me my steid," the King can say,
"My bow and arrows keen;
And I'll gae hunt in yonder wood,
And see what's to be seen." 160
"Gin it please your grace," quo' Bauld Arthur,
"My liege, I'll gang you wi',
And see gin I can meet a bonny page,
That's stray'd awa frae me."
And they hae chased in gude green-wood, 165
The buck but and the rae,
Till they drew near Brown Robin's bour,
About the close o' day.
Then out an' spake the king himsell,
Says, "Arthur, look and see, 170
Gin yon be not your favourite page,
That leans against yon tree."
O Arthur's ta'en a bugle-horn,
And blawn a blast sae shrill;
Sweet Willie started to her feet, 175
And ran him quickly till.
"O wanted ye your meat, Willie,
Or wanted ye your fee?
Or gat ye e'er an angry word,
That ye ran awa frae me?" 180
"I wanted nought, my master dear;
To me ye aye was good:
I cam to see my ae brother,
That wons in this grene-wood."
Then out bespake the King again,-- 185
"My boy, now tell to me,
Who dwells into yon bigly bour,
Beneath yon green aik tree?"
"O pardon me," said sweet Willy,
"My liege, I darena tell; 190
And gangna near yon outlaw's bour,
For fear they suld you kill."
"O haud your tongue, my bonny boy,
For I winna be said nay;
But I will gang yon bour within, 195
Betide me weal or wae."
They have lighted frae their milk-white steids,
And saftlie entered in;
And there they saw her, White Lilly,
Nursing her bonny young son. 200
"Now, by the mass," the King he said,
"This is a comely sight;
I trow, instead of a forester's man,
This is a ladye bright!"
O out and spake her, Rose the Red, 205
And fell low on her knee:--
"O pardon us, my gracious liege,
And our story I'll tell thee.
"Our father is a wealthy lord,
Lives into Barnisdale; 210
But we had a wicked step-mother,
That wrought us meikle bale.
"Yet had she twa as fu' fair sons
As e'er the sun did see;
And the tane o' them lo'ed my sister deir, 215
And the tother said he lo'ed me."
Then out and cried him Bauld Arthur,
As by the King he stood,--
"Now, by the faith of my body,
This suld be Rose the Red!" 220
The king has sent for robes o' green,
And girdles o' shining gold;
And sae sune have the ladyes busked themselves,
Sae glorious to behold.
Then in and came him, Brown Robin, 225
Fra hunting o' the King's deer,
But when he saw the King himsell,
He started back for fear.
The King has ta'en Robin by the hand,
And bade him nothing dread, 230
But quit for aye the gude grene-wood,
And come to the court wi' speed.
The King has ta'en White Lilly's son,
And set him on his knee;
Says, "Gin ye live to wield a brand, 235
My bowman thou sall be."
Then they have ta'en them to the holy chapelle,
And there had fair wedding;
And when they cam to the King's court,
For joy the bells did ring. 240
THE WEDDING OF ROBIN HOOD AND LITTLE JOHN.
From Kinloch's _Ancient Scottish Ballads_, p. 69.
The King has wedded an ill woman,
Into some foreign land;
His daughters twa, that stood in awe,
They bravely sat and sang.
Then in be-came their step-mother, 5
Sae stately steppin' ben;
"O gin I live and bruik my life,
I'll gar ye change your tune."
"O we sang ne'er that sang, ladie,
But we will sing again; 10
And ye ne'er boor that son, ladie,
We wad lay our love on.
"But we will cow our yellow locks,
A little abune our bree;
And we will on to gude green-wud, 15
And serve for meat and fee.
"And we will kilt our gay claithing
A little below the knee;
And we will on the gude green-wud,
Gif Robin Hood we see. 20
"And we will change our ain twa names,
When we gae frae the toun,--
The tane we will call Nicholas,
The tither Rogee Roun."
Then they hae cow'd their yellow locks, 25
A little abune their bree;
And they are on to gude green-wud
To serve for meat and fee.
And they hae kilt their gay claithing
A little below their knee, 30
And they are on to gud green-wud,
Gif Robin Hood they see.
And they hae chang'd thair ain twa names,
When they gaed frae the toun;--
The tane they've called Nicholas, 35
The tither Rogee Roun.
And they hae staid in gude green-wud,
And never a day thoucht long,
Till it fell ance upon a day,
That Rogee sang a sang. 40
"When we were in our fathers bouer,
We sew'd the silken seam;
But now we walk the gude green-wud,
And bear anither name.
"When we were in our fathers ha', 45
We wore the beaten gold;
But now we wear the shield sae sharp,
Alas! we'll die with cold!"
Then up bespake him Robin Hood,
As he to them drew near; 50
"Instead of boys to carry the bow,
Twa ladies we've got here."
So they had not been in gud green-wud,
A twalmonth and a day,
Till Rogee Roun was as big wi' bairn 55
As onie lady could gae.
"O wae be to my stepmother,
That garr'd me leave my hame,
For I'm wi' bairn to Robin Hood,
And near nine month is gane. 60
"O wha will be my bouer-woman?
Na bouer-woman is here!
O wha will be my bouer-woman,
Whan that sad time draws near?
* * * * * * *
The tane was wedded to Robin Hood, 65
And the tither to Little John;
And it was a' owing to their step-mother
That garr'd them leave their hame.
ROBIN HOOD AND THE BEGGAR.
"Robin Hood and his fellow, Little John," says Motherwell, "were
popular with the minstrels of Scotland as they were with those of
England. Our early poets and historians never tired of alluding to
songs current in their own times, relative to these waithmen and their
merry men. Even to this day there are fragments of songs regarding
them, traditionally extant in Scotland, which have not yet found their
way into any printed collection of ballads commemorative of these
celebrated outlaws. Were they carefully gathered they would form an
interesting addition to Ritson's _Robin Hood_. In that collection, the
ballad of _Robin Hood and the Beggar_ is evidently the production of a
Scottish minstrel, pretty early stall copies of which were printed
both at Aberdeen and Glasgow."--_Minstrelsy_, p. xliii.
Ritson printed this ballad (_Robin Hood_, ii. 97,) from a modern copy
printed at Newcastle. He remarks that a similar story may be found in
_Le Moyen de parvenir_, (i. 304, ed. 1739, _Comment un moine se
débarasse des voleurs_.)
We have adopted a superior version given by Gutch, which was from an
Aberdeen copy in the Ashmolean Museum, without date.--(Gutch's _Robin
Hood_, ii. 233.)
_Robin Hood and the Beggar_, with the nine pieces which are now
immediately subjoined, the first part of the tenth, (which has the
same title as the present,) and the first part of _Robin Hood and the
Stranger_, in the Appendix, contains a story essentially the same with
the first part of the ancient ballad of _Robin Hood and the Potter_,
p. 17.
Lyth and listen, gentlemen,
That's come of high born blood,
I'll tell you of a brave booting
That befel Robin Hood.
Robin Hood upon a day, 5
He went forth alone;
And as he came from Barnesdale
Into fair evening,
He met a beggar on the way,
Who sturdily could gang; 10
He had a pike-staff in his hand
That was baith stark and strang.
A clouted cloak about him was,
That held him frae the cold;
The thinnest bit of it, I guess, 15
Was more then twenty fold.
His meal-pock hang about his neck,
Into a leathern fang,
Well fasten'd with a broad buckle,
That was baith stark and strang. 20
He had three hats upon his head,
Together stickèd fast,
He car'd neither for wind nor weet,
In lands where'er he past.
Good Robin coost him in his way, 25
To see what he might be,
If any beggar had monèy,
He thought some part had he.
"Tarry, tarry," good Robin says,
"Tarry, and speak with me;" 30
He heard him as he heard him not,
And fast on his way can hie.
"It be's not so," says good Robin,
"Nay, thou must tarry still;"
"By my troth," said the bold beggar, 35
"Of that I have no will.
"It is far to my lodging house,
And it is growing late;
If they have supt e'er I come in
I will look wondrous blate." 40
"Now, by my truth," says good Robin,
"I see well by thy fare,
If thou chear well to thy supper,
Of mine thou takes no care;
"Who wants my dinner all this day, 45
And wots not where to lie,
And should I to the tavern go,
I want money to buy.
"Sir, thou must lend me some money
Till we two meet again:" 50
The beggar answer'd cankerdly,
"I have no money to lend.
"Thou art as young a man as I,
And seems to be as sweir;
If thou fast till thou get from me, 55
Thou shalt eat none this year."
"Now, by my truth," says good Robin,
"Since we are 'sembled so,
If thou have but a small farthing,
I'll have it e'er thou go. 60
"Therefore, lay down thy clouted cloak,
And do no longer stand,
And loose the strings of all thy pocks,
I'll ripe them with my hand.
"And now to thee I make a vow, 65
If thou make any din,
I shall see if a broad arrow,
Can pierce a beggar's skin."
The beggar smil'd, and answer made,
"Far better let me be; 70
Think not that I will be afraid
For thy nip crooked tree.
"Or that I fear thee any whit
For thy curn nips of sticks;
I know no use for them so meet 75
As to be pudding-pricks.
"Here I defy thee to do me ill,
For all thy boisterous fare;
Thou'st get nothing from me but ill,
Would'st thou seek evermair." 80
Good Robin bent his noble bow,
He was an angery man,
And in it set a broad arròw;
Yet erst was drawn a span,
The beggar, with his noble tree, 85
Reach'd him so round a rout,
That his bow and his broad arròw
In flinders flew about.
Good Robin bound him to his brand,
But that prov'd likewise vain,
The beggar lighted on his hand
With his pike-staff again.
I wot he might not draw a sword
For forty days and mair;
Good Robin could not speak a word, 95
His heart was never so sair.
He could not fight, he could not flee,
He wist not what to do;
The beggar with his noble tree
Laid lusty flaps him to. 100
He paid good Robin back and side,
And beft him up and down,
And with his pike-staff still laid on hard,
Till he fell in a swoon.
"Fy, stand up, man," the beggar said, 105
"'Tis shame to go to rest;
Stay still till thou get my money,
I think it were the best.
"And syne go to the tavern house,
And buy both wine and ale; 110
Hereat thy friends will crack full crouse,
Thou hast been at a dale."
Good Robin answer'd never a word,
But lay still as a stane;
His cheeks were white as any clay, 115
And closed were his eyen.
The beggar thought him dead but fail,
And boldly bown'd away;--
I would you had been at the dale,
And gotten part of the play. 120
[THE SECOND PART.]
Now three of Robin's men, by chance,
Came walking by the way,
And found their master in a trance,
On ground where he did lay.
Up have they taken good Robin, 5
Making a piteous beir,
Yet saw they no man there at whom
They might the matter speir.
They lookèd him all round about,
But wounds on him saw none, 10
Yet at his mouth came bocking out
The blood of a good vein.
Cold water they have taken syne,
And cast into his face;
Then he began to lift his eyne, 15
And spake within short space.
"Tell us, dear master," said his men,
"How with you stands the case?"
Good Robin sigh'd e'er he began
To tell of his disgrace. 20
"I have been watchman in this wood
Near hand this forty year,
Yet I was never so hard bestead
As you have found me here.
"A beggar with a clouted cloak, 25
In whom I fear'd no ill,
Hath with his pike-staff claw'd my back,
I fear 'twill never be well.
See, where he goes o'er yonder hill,
With hat upon his head; 30
If e'er you lov'd your master well,
Go now revenge this deed.
"And bring him back again to me,
If it lie in your might,
That I may see, before I die, 35
Him punisht in my sight.
"And if you may not bring him back,
Let him not go loose on;
For to us all it were great shame
If he escap't again." 40
"One of us shall with you remain,
Because you're ill at ease,
The other two shall bring him back,
To use him as you please."
"Now, by my troth," says good Robin, 45
"I trow there's enough said;
If he get scouth to wield his tree,
I fear you'll both be paid."
"Be ye not fear'd, our good master,
That we two can be dung 50
With any blutter base beggar,
That has nought but a rung.
"His staff shall stand him in no stead;
That you shall shortly see;
But back again he shall be led, 55
And fast bound shall he be,
To see if ye will have him slain,
Or hangèd on a tree."
"But cast you slily in his way,
Before he be aware, 60
And on his pike-staff first hands lay,
You'll speed the better far."
Now leave we Robin with his man,
Again to play the child,
And learn himself to stand and gang 65
By haulds, for all his eild.
Now pass we to the bold beggàr
That rakèd o'er the hill,
Who never mended his pace no more
Nor he had done no ill. 70
The young men knew the country well,
So soon where he would be,[L72]
And they have taken another way,[L73]
Was nearer by miles three.
They rudely ran with all their might, 75
Spared neither dub nor mire,
They started neither at laigh nor hight,
No travel made them tire.
Till they before the beggar wan,
And coost them in his way; 80
A little wood lay in a glen,
And there they both did stay.
They stood up closely by a tree,
In ilk side of the gate,
Until the beggar came them to, 85
That thought not of such fate.
And as he was betwixt them past,
They leapt upon him baith;
The one his pike-staff grippèd fast,
They fearèd for its scaith. 90
The other he held in his sight
A drawen dirk to his breast,
And said, "False carl, quit thy staff,
Or I shall be thy priest."
His pike-staff they have taken him frae, 95
And stuck it in the green,
He was full loath to let gae,
If better might have been.
The beggar was the feardest man
Of one that ever might be; 100
To win away no way he can,
Nor help him with his tree.
He wist not wherefore he was tane,
Nor how many was there;
He thought his life-days had been gane, 105
He grew into despair.
"Grant me my life," the beggar said,
"For him that died on tree,
And take away that ugly knife,
Or then for fear I'll die. 110
"I griev'd you never in all my life,
Nor late nor yet by ayre,
Ye have great sin, if ye would slay
A silly poor beggàr."
"Thou lies, false lown," they said again, 115
"By all that may be sworn;
Thou hast near slain the gentlest man
That ever yet was born.
"And back again thou shalt be led,
And fast bound shalt thou be, 120
To see if he will have thee slain,
Or hangèd on a tree."
The beggar then thought all was wrong;
They were set for his wrack;
He saw nothing appearing then, 125
But ill upon worse back.
Were he out of their hands, he thought,
And had again his tree,
He should not be had back for nought,
With such as he did see. 130
Then he bethought him on a wile,
If it could take effect,
How he the young men might beguile,
And give them a begeck.
Thus for to do them shame or ill, 135
His beastly breast was bent;
He found the wind grew something shril,
To further his intent.
He said, "Brave gentlemen, be good,
And let the poor man be; 140
When ye have taken a beggar's blood,
It helps you not a flea.
"It was but in my own defence,
If he hath gotten skaith;
But I will make a recompense, 145
Much better for you baith.
"If ye will set me safe and free,
And do me no dangèr,
An hundred pounds I will you give,
And much more good silvèr, 150
"That I have gather'd this many years,
Under this clouted cloak,
And hid up [wonder] privately,[L153]
In bottom of my pock."
The young men to a council yeed, 155
And let the beggar gae;
They wist full well he had no speed
From them to run away.
They thought they would the money take,
Come after what so may; 160
And then they would not bring him back,
But in that place him slay.
By that good Robin would not know
That they had gotten coin;
It would content him for to show 165
That there they had him slain.
They said, "False carl, soon have done,
And tell forth thy monèy;
For the ill turn that thou hast done
'Tis but a simple fee. 170
"And yet we will not have thee back,
Come after what so may,
If thou will do that which thou spake,
And make us present pay."
O then he loos'd his clouted cloak, 175
And spread it on the ground,
And thereon laid he many a pock,
Betwixt them and the wind.
He took a great bag from his hase,
It was near full of meal, 180
Two pecks in it at least there was,
And more I wot full well.
Upon his cloak he laid it down,
The mouth he open'd wide,
To turn the same he made him bown, 185
The young men ready spy'd.
In every hand he took a nook
Of that great leathern meal,
And with a fling the meal he shook,
Into their faces hail: 190
Wherewith he blinded them so close,
A stime they could not see;
And then in heart he did rejoice,
And clapt his lusty tree.
He thought if he had done them wrong, 195
In mealing of their cloaths,
For to strike off the meal again
With his pike-staff he goes.
Or any of them could red their eyne,
Or could a glimm'ring see, 200
Ilk one of them a dozen had
Well laid on with the tree.
The young men were right swift of foot,
And boldly ran away,
The beggar could them no more hit, 205
For all the haste he may.
"What ails this haste?" the beggar said,
"May ye not tarry still,
Until your money be received?
I'll pay you with good will. 210
"The shaking of my pocks, I fear,
Hath blown into your eyne;
But I have a good pike-staff here
Can ripe them out full clean."
The young men answer'd never a word, 215
They were dumb as a stane;
In the thick wood the beggar fled,
E'er they riped their eyne.
And syne the night became so late,
To seek him was in vain: 220
But judge ye, if they lookèd blate,
When they came home again.
Good Robin spear'd how they had sped;
They answer'd him, "Full ill:"
"That cannot be," good Robin says, 225
"Ye have been at the mill.
"The mill it is a meatrif place,
They may lick what they please;
Most like ye have been at that art,
Who would look to your cloaths." 230
They hang'd their heads, they dropèd down,
A word they could not speak:
Robin said, "Because I fell a-swoon,
I think you'll do the like.
"Tell on the matter, less or more, 235
And tell me what and how[L236]
Ye have done with the bold beggàr,
I sent you for right now."
And when they told him to an end,
As I have said before, 240
How that the beggar did them blind,
What misters process more,
And how he lin'd their shoulders broad[L243]
With his great trenchen tree,[L244]
And how in the thick wood he fled, 245
E'er they a stime could see,
And how they scarcely could win home,
Their bones were beft so sore,
Good Robin cry'd, "Fy! out, for shame!
We're sham'd for evermore." 250
Altho' good Robin would full fain
Of his wrong revengèd be,
He smil'd to see his merry young men
Had gotten a taste of the tree.
72,73. Wanting in the original, and restored from the Aberdeen copy.
GUTCH.
153, wonder. RITSON.
236, where.
243, 244. These two lines are restored from the Aberdeen ballad. G.
THE JOLLY PINDER OF WAKEFIELD.
WITH ROBIN HOOD, SCARLET, AND JOHN.
Ritson's _Robin Hood_, ii. 18.
"From an old black-letter copy, in A. à Wood's collection, compared
with two others in the British Museum, one in black-letter.
"Several lines of this ballad are quoted in the two old plays of the
_Downfall_ and _Death of Robert earle of Huntington_, 1601, 4to. b. l.
but acted many years before. It is also alluded to in Shakespeare's
_Merry Wives of Windsor_, act i. scene 1, and again in his Second Part
of _King Henry IV._, act v. scene 3.
"In 1557 certain 'ballets' are entered on the books of the Stationers'
Company, 'to John Wallye and Mrs. Toye,' one of which is entitled _Of
Wakefylde and a grene_; meaning apparently the ballad here reprinted."
RITSON.
In Wakefield there lives a jolly pindèr,
In Wakefield all on a green,
_In Wakefield all on a green_.
* * * * *
* * * * *
"There is neither knight nor squire," said the pinder,
"Nor baron that is so bold, 5
_Nor baron that is so bold_,
Dare make a trespàss to the town of Wakefield,
But his pledge goes to the pinfold," &c.
All this beheard three wighty yeomen,[L9]
'Twas Robin Hood, Scarlet and John; 10
With that they espy'd the jolly pindèr,
As he sat under a thorn.
"Now turn again, turn again," said the pindèr,
"For a wrong way you have gone;
For you have forsaken the kings highway, 15
And made a path over the corn."
"O that were a shame," said jolly Robìn,
"We being three, and thou but one:"
The pinder leapt back then thirty good foot,
'Twas thirty good foot and one. 20
He leaned his back fast unto a thorn,
And his foot against a stone,
And there he fought a long summers day,
A summers day so long,
Till that their swords on their broad bucklèrs, 25
Were broke fast into their hands.
"Hold thy hand, hold thy hand," said bold Robin Hood,
"And my merry men stand aside;
For this is one of the best pindèrs,[L29]
That with sword ever I tryed.[L30] 30
"And wilt thou forsake thy pinders craft,
And go to the greenwood with me?
Thou shalt have a livery twice in the year,[L33]
Th' one greene, 'tither brown shall be."[L34]
"At Michaelmas next my cov'nant comes out, 35
When every man gathers his fee,
Then I'le take my blew blade all in my hand,
And plod to the green-wood with thee."
"Hast thou either meat or drink," said Robin Hood,
"For my merry men and me?" 40
* * * * *
* * * * *
"I have both bread and beef," said the pinder,
"And good ale of the best:"
"And that is meat good enough," said Robin Hood,
For such unbidden 'guest.'
"O wilt thou forsake the pinder his craft, 45
And go to the green-wood with me?
Thou shalt have a livery twice in the year,
The one green, the other brown [shall be]."
"If Michaelmas day was come and gone,
And my master had paid me my fee, 50
Then would I set as little by him,
As my master doth by me."
9, witty young men. RITSON
29, 30. This is the reading in one black-letter copy that has come
under the Editor's notice, instead of
"For this is one of the best pinders
That ever I tried with sword."--GUTCH.
33, 34. From the same.
ROBIN HOOD AND THE RANGER;
OR, TRUE FRIENDSHIP AFTER A FIERCE FIGHT.
"No ancient copy of this ballad having been met with, it is given from
an edition of _Robin Hood's Garland_, printed some years since at
York. The tune is _Arthur a Bland_." RITSON'S _Robin Hood_, ii. 137.
When Ph[oe]bus had melted the 'sickles' of ice,
_With a hey down, &c._
And likewise the mountains of snow,
Bold Robin Hood he would ramble away,
To frolick abroad with his bow.
He left all his merry men waiting behind, 5
Whilst through the green vallies he pass'd,
Where he did behold a forester bold,
Who cry'd out, "Friend, whither so fast?"
"I am going," quoth Robin, "to kill a fat buck,
For me and my merry men all; 10
Besides, ere I go, I'll have a fat doe,
Or else it shall cost me a fall."
"You'd best have a care," said the forester then,
"For these are his majesty's deer;
Before you shall shoot, the thing I'll dispute, 15
For I am head forester here."
"These thirteen long summers," quoth Robin, "I'm sure,
My arrows I here have let fly,
Where freely I range; methinks it is strange,
You should have more power than I. 20
"This forest," quoth Robin, "I think is my own,
And so are the nimble deer too;
Therefore I declare, and solemnly swear,
I'll not be affronted by you."
The forester he had a long quarter staff, 25
Likewise a broad sword by his side;
Without more ado, he presently drew,
Declaring the truth should be try'd.
Bold Robin Hood had a sword of the best,
Thus, ere he would take any wrong, 30
His courage was flush, he'd venture a brush,
And thus they fell to it ding dong.
The very first blow that the forester gave,
He made his broad weapon cry twang;
'Twas over the head, he fell down for dead, 35
O that was a damnable bang!
But Robin he soon recovered himself,
And bravely fell to it again;
The very next stroke their weapons they broke.
Yet never a man there was slain. 40
At quarter staff then they resolvèd to play,
Because they would have the other bout;
And brave Robin Hood right valiantly stood,
Unwilling he was to give out.