Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (1863–1944). The Oxford Book of Ballads. 1910.
115115. A Little Geste of Robin Hood and his Meiny
The Fifth FytteNow hath the Knight his leave i-take,
And went him on his way;
Robin Hood and his merry men
Dwelt still full many a day.
Lithe and listen, Gentlemen,
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 he that shooteth alder-best
The game shall bear away.
‘He that shooteth alder-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 feathers of rich red gold,
In England is none like.’
This then heardè good Robin,
Under his trystell-tree:
‘Make you ready, ye wight young men;
That shooting will I see.
‘Busk you, my merry 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 feather’d 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 archèr
That shot with bowè strong.
‘There shall but six shoot with me,
The other shall keep my heed,
And stand with good bowès bent
That I be not deceived.’
The fourth outlaw his bow gan bend,
And that was Robin Hood,
And that beheld the proud Sheriff,
All by the butt he stood.
Thrice Robin shot about,
And alway he sliced the wand,
And so did good Gilbert,
With the white hand.
Little John and good Scathelock
Were archers good and free;
Little Much and good Reynold,
The worst would they not be.
When they haddè shot about,
These archers fair and good,
Evermore was the best,
For soothè, Robin Hood.
Him was deliver’d the good arròw,
For best worthy was he;
He took the gift so courteously,
To greenè-wood would he.
They crièd out on Robin Hood
And great horns gan they blow:
‘Woe worth thee, treason!’ said Robin,
‘Full evil thou art to know.
‘And woe be thee, thou proud Sheriff,
Thus gladding thy guest;
Otherwise thou behotè me
In yonder wild forèst.
‘But had I thee in greenè-wood,
Under my trystell-tree,
Thou shouldest leave me a better wed
Than thy true lewtè.’
Full many a bowè there was bent,
And arrows let they glide;
Many a kirtle there was rent,
And hurt full many a side.
The outlaws’ shottè was so strong
That no man might them drive,
And the proudè Sheriff’s men
They fled away full blive.
Robin saw the bushment broke,
In green-wood he would 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 pity.
‘Master,’ then said Little John,
‘If ever thou lovest me,
And for that ilk Lordès love,
That died upon a tree,
‘And for the meeds of my service,
That I have servèd thee,
Let never the proud Sheriff
Alive now findè me;
‘But take out thy brown sword,
And smite all off my head
And give me wounds dead and wide,
No life on me be left.’
‘I would not that,’ said Robin,
‘John, that thou were 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 Robin 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 castèll,
A little within the wood;
Double-ditch’d it was about,
And wallèd, by the rood.
And there dwelt that gentle Knight,
Sir Richard at the Lee,
That Robin haddè lent his good,
Under the green-wood tree.
In he took good Robin,
And all his company:
‘Welcome be thou, Robin Hood,
Welcome art thou to me;
‘And much I thank thee of thy comfort,
And of thy courtesy,
And of thy great kindness,
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 ready,
And to the walls ye win.
‘For one thing, Robin, I thee behote,
I swear by Saint Quintìn,
These twelve days thou wonest with me,
To sup, eat, and dine.’
Boards were laid, and cloths spread,
Readily and anon;
Robin Hood and his merry men
To meat gan they gone.
alder-best] best of all.law] low.fynly] goodly.wete] know.tackles] arrows.worth thee] be to thee.behotè] didst promise.wed] pledge, security.blive] quickly.bushment] ambush.meeds] wages.dead] certain, sure.rawe] row.win] go, attain.behote] promise.wonest] dwellest.