C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne
By The Ballad
1.W
And leeves both large and longe,
It is merry, walking in the fayre forrest,
To heare the small birds’ songe.
Amongst the leaves a lyne;
And it is by two wight yeomen,
By deare God, that I meane.
3.“Me thought they did me beate and binde,
And tooke my bow me fro;
If I bee Robin alive in this lande,
I’ll be wrocken on both them two.”
“As the wind that blowes ore a hill;
For if it be never soe lowde this night,
To-morrow it may be still.”
For John shall go with me;
For I’ll goe seeke yond wight yeomen
In greenwood where they bee.”
A shooting gone are they,
Until they came to the merry greenwood,
Where they had gladdest bee;
There were they ware of a wight yeoman,
His body leaned to a tree.
Had beene many a man’s bane,
And he was cladd in his capull-hyde,
Topp, and tayle, and mayne.
“Under this trusty tree,
And I will goe to yond wight yeoman,
To know his meaning trulye.”
And that’s a farley thinge;
How offt send I my men before,
And tarry myselfe behinde?
And a man but heare him speake;
And it were not for bursting of my bowe,
John, I wold thy head breake.”
That parted Robin and John;
John is gone to Barnesdale,
The gates he knowes eche one.
Great heavinesse there hee hadd;
He found two of his fellowes
Were slaine both in a slade,
Over stockes and stone,
For the sheriffe with seven score men
Fast after him is gone.
“With Crist his might and mayne;
I’ll make yond fellow that flyes soe fast
To be both glad and faine.”
And fetteled him to shoote;
The bow was made of a tender boughe,
And fell downe to his foote.
“That ere thou grew on a tree!
For this day thou art my bale,
My boote when thou shold bee!”
The arrowe flew in vaine,
And it mett one of the sheriffe’s men;
Good William a Trent was slaine.
To hange upon a gallowe
Then for to lye in the greenwoode,
There slaine with an arrowe.
Six can doe more than three:
And they have tane Litle John,
And bound him fast to a tree.
“And hanged hye on a hill:”
“But thou may fayle,” quoth Litle John
“If it be Christ’s owne will.”
For hee is bound fast to a tree,
And talke of Guy and Robin Hood
In the green woode where they bee.
Under the leaves of lyne,
To see what marchandise they made
Even at that same time.
“Good morrow, good fellow,” quoth hee;
“Methinkes by this bow thou beares in thy hand,
A good archer thou seems to bee.”
“And of my morning tyde:”
“I’ll lead thee through the wood,” quoth Robin,
“Good fellow, I’ll be thy guide.”
“Men call him Robin Hood;
I had rather meet with him upon a day
Then forty pound of golde.”
Afore yee did part awaye;
Let us some other pastime find,
Good fellow, I thee pray.
And we will walke in the woods even;
Wee may chance meet with Robin Hood
At some unsett steven.”
Which grew both under a bryar,
And sett them three score rood in twinn,
To shoote the prickes full neare.
“Leade on, I doe bidd thee:”
“Nay, by my faith,” quoth Robin Hood,
“The leader thou shalt bee.”
Did not shoote an inch the pricke froe,
Guy was an archer good enoughe,
But he could neere shoote soe.
He shott within the garlande,
But Robin Hoode shott it better than hee,
For he clove the good pricke-wande.
“Goode fellow, thy shooting is goode;
For an thy hart be as good as thy hands,
Thou were better than Robin Hood.”
“Under the leaves of lyne:”
“Nay, by my faith,” quoth good Robin,
“Till thou have told me thine.”
“And I have done many a curst turne;
And he that calles me by my right name,
Calles me Guye of good Gysborne.”
“By thee I set right nought;
My name is Robin Hood of Barnesdale,
A fellow thou hast long sought.”
Might have seene a full fayre sight.
To see how together these yeomen went,
With blades both browne and bright.
Two howers of a summer’s day;
It was neither Guy nor Robin Hood
That fettled them to flye away.
And stumbled at that tyde,
And Guy was quicke and nimble with-all,
And hitt him ore the left side.
“Thou art both mother and may!
I thinke it was never man’s destinye
To dye before his day.”
And soone leapt up againe,
And thus he came with an awkwarde stroke;
Good Sir Guy hee has slayne.
And sticked it on his bowe’s end:
“Thou has beene traytor all thy life,
Which thing must have an ende.”
And nicked Sir Guy in the face,
That he was never on a woman borne
Could tell who Sir Guye was.
And with me not wrothe;
If thou have had the worse stroakes at my hand,
Thou shalt have the better cloathe.
Sir Guye he did it throwe;
And he put on that capull-hyde
That clad him topp to toe.
And with me now I’ll beare;
For now I will goe to Barnesdale,
To see how my men doe fare.”
A lowd blast in it he did blow;
That beheard the sheriffe of Nottingham,
As he leaned under a lowe.
“I heard noe tydings but good;
For yonder I heare Sir Guye’s horne blowe,
For he hath slaine Robin Hoode.
It blowes soe well in tyde,
For yonder comes that wighty yeoman
Cladd in his capull-hyde.
Aske of mee what thou wilt have:”
“I’ll none of thy gold,” sayes Robin Hood,
“Nor I’ll none of it have.
“Let me goe strike the knave;
This is all the reward I aske,
Nor noe other will I have.”
“Thou sholdest have had a knight’s fee;
Seeing thy asking hath beene soe badd,
Well granted it shall be.”
Well he knew that was his steven;
“Now shall I be loset,” quoth Litle John,
“With Christ’s might in heaven.”
Hee thought hee wold loose him belive;
The sheriffe and all his companye
Fast after him did drive.
“Why draw you mee soe neere?
It was never the use in our countrye
One’s shrift another should heere.”
And losed John hand and foote,
And gave him Sir Guye’s bow in his hand,
And bade it be his boote.
(His arrowes were rawstye by the roote);
The sherriffe saw Litle John draw a bow
And fettle him to shoote.
He fled full fast away,
And so did all his companye,
Not one behind did stay.
Nor away soe fast runn,
But Litle John, with an arrow broade,
Did cleave his heart in twinn.