A Bundle of Ballads [34]
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 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