Robin Hood and Allen-a-Dale.

FOOTNOTES:[129]Fat hart.[130]Whistle.

[129]Fat hart.

[130]Whistle.

CCome listen to me, you gallants so free,All you that love mirth for to hear,And I will tell you of a bold outlaw,That liv'd in Nottinghamshire.As Robin Hood in the forest stood,All under the greenwood tree,There was he aware of a brave young man,As fine as fine might be.The youngster was clothed in scarlet red,In scarlet fine and gay;And he did frisk it o'er the plain,And chaunted a roundelay.As Robin Hood next morning stoodAmongst the leaves so gay,There did he 'spy the same young manCome drooping along the way.The scarlet he wore the day before,It was cast clean away;And ev'ry step he fetch'd a sigh,Alack and well a day!Then stepped forth brave Little John,And Midge the miller's son,Which made the young man bend his bow,When he did see them come.Stand off, stand off, the young man said,What is your will with me?You must come before our master straight,Under yonder greenwood tree.And when he came bold Robin before,Robin asked him courteously,O hast thou any money to spareFor my merry men and me?I have no money, the young man said,But five shillings and a ring,And that I have kept these seven long years,To have it at my wedding.Yesterday I should have married a maid,But from me she was ta'en,And chosen to be an old knight's delight,Whereby my poor heart is slain.What is thy name then, said Robin Hood,Come, tell me without fail?By the faith of my body, then said the young man,My name is Allen-a-Dale.What wilt thou give me, said Robin Hood,In ready gold or fee,To help thee to thy true love again,And deliver her unto thee?I have no money, then quoth the young man,No ready gold or fee,But I will swear upon a book,Thy true servant for to be.How many miles is it to thy true love?Come, tell me without any guile.By the faith of my body, then said the young man,It is but five little mile.Then Robin he hasted over the plain,And he did neither stint nor lin,[131]Until he came unto the church,Where Allen should have kept his wedding!What dost thou here, the Bishop then said,I prithee tell unto me?I am a bold harper, quoth Robin Hood,And the best in the north country.O welcome, O welcome, the bishop then said,That music best pleaseth me;You shall have no music, quoth Robin Hood,Till the bride and bridegroom I see.With that came in a wealthy knight,Who was both grave and old;And after him a finikin lass,That did shine like glittering gold.This is not a fit match, quoth bold Robin Hood,That you do seem to make here;For since we are come into the church,The bride shall choose her own dear.Then Robin Hood put his horn to his mouth,And blew blasts two or three;Then four and twenty bowmen boldCame leaping over the lea.And when they came into the churchyard,Marching all on a row,The first man was Allen-a-Dale,To give bold Robin his bow.This is thy true love, Robin he said,Young Allen, as I have heard say,And thou shalt be married at this same time,Before we depart away.That shalt not be, the bishop he said,For thy word shall not stand;They shall be three times asked in the church,As the law is of our land.

CCome listen to me, you gallants so free,All you that love mirth for to hear,And I will tell you of a bold outlaw,That liv'd in Nottinghamshire.

As Robin Hood in the forest stood,All under the greenwood tree,There was he aware of a brave young man,As fine as fine might be.

The youngster was clothed in scarlet red,In scarlet fine and gay;And he did frisk it o'er the plain,And chaunted a roundelay.

As Robin Hood next morning stoodAmongst the leaves so gay,There did he 'spy the same young manCome drooping along the way.

The scarlet he wore the day before,It was cast clean away;And ev'ry step he fetch'd a sigh,Alack and well a day!

Then stepped forth brave Little John,And Midge the miller's son,Which made the young man bend his bow,When he did see them come.

Stand off, stand off, the young man said,What is your will with me?You must come before our master straight,Under yonder greenwood tree.

And when he came bold Robin before,Robin asked him courteously,O hast thou any money to spareFor my merry men and me?

I have no money, the young man said,But five shillings and a ring,And that I have kept these seven long years,To have it at my wedding.

Yesterday I should have married a maid,But from me she was ta'en,And chosen to be an old knight's delight,Whereby my poor heart is slain.

What is thy name then, said Robin Hood,Come, tell me without fail?By the faith of my body, then said the young man,My name is Allen-a-Dale.

What wilt thou give me, said Robin Hood,In ready gold or fee,To help thee to thy true love again,And deliver her unto thee?

I have no money, then quoth the young man,No ready gold or fee,But I will swear upon a book,Thy true servant for to be.

How many miles is it to thy true love?Come, tell me without any guile.By the faith of my body, then said the young man,It is but five little mile.

Then Robin he hasted over the plain,And he did neither stint nor lin,[131]Until he came unto the church,Where Allen should have kept his wedding!

What dost thou here, the Bishop then said,I prithee tell unto me?I am a bold harper, quoth Robin Hood,And the best in the north country.

O welcome, O welcome, the bishop then said,That music best pleaseth me;You shall have no music, quoth Robin Hood,Till the bride and bridegroom I see.

With that came in a wealthy knight,Who was both grave and old;And after him a finikin lass,That did shine like glittering gold.

This is not a fit match, quoth bold Robin Hood,That you do seem to make here;For since we are come into the church,The bride shall choose her own dear.

Then Robin Hood put his horn to his mouth,And blew blasts two or three;Then four and twenty bowmen boldCame leaping over the lea.

And when they came into the churchyard,Marching all on a row,The first man was Allen-a-Dale,To give bold Robin his bow.

This is thy true love, Robin he said,Young Allen, as I have heard say,And thou shalt be married at this same time,Before we depart away.

That shalt not be, the bishop he said,For thy word shall not stand;They shall be three times asked in the church,As the law is of our land.

THE MARRIAGE OF ALLEN A DALE.THE MARRIAGE OF ALLEN A DALE.

Robin Hood pull'd off the bishop's coat,And put it upon Little John;By the faith of my body, then Robin he said,This cloth doth make thee a man.When Little John went to the quire,The people began to laugh:He ask'd them seven times in the church,Lest three times should not be enough.Who gives this maid? said Little John;Quoth Robin, that do I;And he that takes her from Allen-a-Dale,Full dearly shall her buy.And thus having ended this merry wedding,The bride she looked like a queen!And so they returned to the merry green wood,Amongst the leaves so green.

Robin Hood pull'd off the bishop's coat,And put it upon Little John;By the faith of my body, then Robin he said,This cloth doth make thee a man.

When Little John went to the quire,The people began to laugh:He ask'd them seven times in the church,Lest three times should not be enough.

Who gives this maid? said Little John;Quoth Robin, that do I;And he that takes her from Allen-a-Dale,Full dearly shall her buy.

And thus having ended this merry wedding,The bride she looked like a queen!And so they returned to the merry green wood,Amongst the leaves so green.

FOOTNOTES:[131]Stop.

[131]Stop.

Valentine and Ursine.

WWhen Flora 'gins to deck the fieldsWith colours fresh and fine,Then holy clerks their matins singTo good Saint Valentine!The king of France that morning fairHe would a hunting ride:To Artois forest prancing forthIn all his princely pride.To grace his sports a courtly trainOf gallant peers attend;And with their loud and cheerful criesThe hills and valleys rend.Through the deep forest swift they pass,Through woods and thickets wild;When down within a lonely dellThey found a new-born child;All in a scarlet kercher laidOf silk so fine and thin:A golden mantle wrapt him roundPinn'd with a silver pin.The sudden sight surpris'd them all;The courtiers gather'd round;They look, they call, the mother seek;No mother could be found.At length the king himself drew near,And as he gazing stands,The pretty babe look'd up and smil'd,And stretch'd his little hands.Now, by the rood, king Pepin says,This child is passing fair:I wot he is of gentle blood;Perhaps some prince's heir.Go bear him home unto my courtWith all the care ye may:Let him be christen'd Valentine,In honour of this day:And look me out some cunning nurse;Well nurtur'd let him be:Nor aught be wanting that becomesA bairn of high degree.They look'd him out a cunning nurse,And nurtur'd well was he;Nor aught was wanting that becameA bairn of high degree.Thus grew the little Valentine,Belov'd of king and peers;And show'd in all he spake or didA wit beyond his years.But chief in gallant feats of armsHe did himself advance,And ere he grew to man's estateHe had no peer in France.And now the early down beganTo shade his youthful chin;When Valentine was dubb'd a knight,That he might glory win.A boon, a boon, my gracious liege,I beg a boon of thee!The first adventure that befallsMay be reserv'd for me.The first adventure shall be thine,The king did smiling say.Nor many days, when lo! there cameThree palmers clad in gray.Help, gracious lord, they weeping said;And knelt, as it was meet:From Artois forest we be come,With weak and weary feet.Within those deep and dreary woodsThere wends a savage boy;Whose fierce and mortal rage doth yieldThy subjects dire annoy.'Mong ruthless bears he sure was bred;He lurks within their den:With bears he lives, with bears he feeds,And drinks the blood of men.To more than savage strength he joinsA more than human skill:For arms, no cunning may sufficeHis cruel rage to still:Up then rose sir Valentine,And claim'd that arduous deed.Go forth and conquer, said the king,And great shall be thy meed.Well mounted on a milk-white steed,His armour white as snow;As well beseem'd a virgin knight,Who ne'er had fought a foe:To Artois forest he repairsWith all the haste he may;And soon he spies the savage youthA rending of his prey.His unkempt hair all matted hungHis shaggy shoulders round:His eager eye all fiery glow'd:His face with fury frown'd.Like eagle's talons grew his nails:His limbs were thick and strong;And dreadful was the knotted oakHe bare with him along.Soon as sir Valentine approach'd,He starts with sudden spring;And yelling forth a hideous howl,He made the forests ring.As when a tiger fierce and fellHath spied a passing roe,And leaps at once upon his throat;So sprung the savage foe.So lightly leap'd with furious forceThe gentle knight to seize:But met his tall uplifted spear,Which sunk him on his knees.A second stroke so stiff and sternHad laid the savage low;But springing up, he rais'd his club,And aim'd a dreadful blow.The watchful warrior bent his head,And shunn'd the coming stroke;Upon his taper spear it fell,And all to shivers broke.Then lighting nimbly from his steed,He drew his burnished brand:The savage quick as lightning flewTo wrest it from his hand.Three times he grasp'd the silver hilt;Three times he felt the blade;Three times it fell with furious force;Three ghastly wounds it made.Now with redoubled rage he roar'd;His eye-ball flash'd with fire;Each hairy limb with fury shook;And all his heart was ire.Then closing fast with furious gripeHe clasp'd the champion round,And with a strong and sudden twistHe laid him on the ground.But soon the knight, with active spring,O'erturn'd his hairy foe:And now between their sturdy fistsPassed many a bruising blow.

WWhen Flora 'gins to deck the fieldsWith colours fresh and fine,Then holy clerks their matins singTo good Saint Valentine!

The king of France that morning fairHe would a hunting ride:To Artois forest prancing forthIn all his princely pride.

To grace his sports a courtly trainOf gallant peers attend;And with their loud and cheerful criesThe hills and valleys rend.

Through the deep forest swift they pass,Through woods and thickets wild;When down within a lonely dellThey found a new-born child;

All in a scarlet kercher laidOf silk so fine and thin:A golden mantle wrapt him roundPinn'd with a silver pin.

The sudden sight surpris'd them all;The courtiers gather'd round;They look, they call, the mother seek;No mother could be found.

At length the king himself drew near,And as he gazing stands,The pretty babe look'd up and smil'd,And stretch'd his little hands.

Now, by the rood, king Pepin says,This child is passing fair:I wot he is of gentle blood;Perhaps some prince's heir.

Go bear him home unto my courtWith all the care ye may:Let him be christen'd Valentine,In honour of this day:

And look me out some cunning nurse;Well nurtur'd let him be:Nor aught be wanting that becomesA bairn of high degree.

They look'd him out a cunning nurse,And nurtur'd well was he;Nor aught was wanting that becameA bairn of high degree.

Thus grew the little Valentine,Belov'd of king and peers;And show'd in all he spake or didA wit beyond his years.

But chief in gallant feats of armsHe did himself advance,And ere he grew to man's estateHe had no peer in France.

And now the early down beganTo shade his youthful chin;When Valentine was dubb'd a knight,That he might glory win.

A boon, a boon, my gracious liege,I beg a boon of thee!The first adventure that befallsMay be reserv'd for me.

The first adventure shall be thine,The king did smiling say.Nor many days, when lo! there cameThree palmers clad in gray.

Help, gracious lord, they weeping said;And knelt, as it was meet:From Artois forest we be come,With weak and weary feet.

Within those deep and dreary woodsThere wends a savage boy;Whose fierce and mortal rage doth yieldThy subjects dire annoy.

'Mong ruthless bears he sure was bred;He lurks within their den:With bears he lives, with bears he feeds,And drinks the blood of men.

To more than savage strength he joinsA more than human skill:For arms, no cunning may sufficeHis cruel rage to still:

Up then rose sir Valentine,And claim'd that arduous deed.Go forth and conquer, said the king,And great shall be thy meed.

Well mounted on a milk-white steed,His armour white as snow;As well beseem'd a virgin knight,Who ne'er had fought a foe:

To Artois forest he repairsWith all the haste he may;And soon he spies the savage youthA rending of his prey.

His unkempt hair all matted hungHis shaggy shoulders round:His eager eye all fiery glow'd:His face with fury frown'd.

Like eagle's talons grew his nails:His limbs were thick and strong;And dreadful was the knotted oakHe bare with him along.

Soon as sir Valentine approach'd,He starts with sudden spring;And yelling forth a hideous howl,He made the forests ring.

As when a tiger fierce and fellHath spied a passing roe,And leaps at once upon his throat;So sprung the savage foe.

So lightly leap'd with furious forceThe gentle knight to seize:But met his tall uplifted spear,Which sunk him on his knees.

A second stroke so stiff and sternHad laid the savage low;But springing up, he rais'd his club,And aim'd a dreadful blow.

The watchful warrior bent his head,And shunn'd the coming stroke;Upon his taper spear it fell,And all to shivers broke.

Then lighting nimbly from his steed,He drew his burnished brand:The savage quick as lightning flewTo wrest it from his hand.

Three times he grasp'd the silver hilt;Three times he felt the blade;Three times it fell with furious force;Three ghastly wounds it made.

Now with redoubled rage he roar'd;His eye-ball flash'd with fire;Each hairy limb with fury shook;And all his heart was ire.

Then closing fast with furious gripeHe clasp'd the champion round,And with a strong and sudden twistHe laid him on the ground.

But soon the knight, with active spring,O'erturn'd his hairy foe:And now between their sturdy fistsPassed many a bruising blow.

VALENTINE AND URSINE.VALENTINE AND URSINE.

They roll'd and grappled on the ground,And there they struggled long:Skilful and active was the knight;The savage he was strong.But brutal force and savage strengthTo art and skill must yield:Sir Valentine at length prevail'd,And won the well-fought field.Then binding straight his conquer'd foeFast with an iron chain,He ties him to his horse's tail,And leads him o'er the plain.To court his hairy captive soonSir Valentine doth bring;And kneeling down upon his knee,Presents him to the king.With loss of blood and loss of strength,The savage tamer grew;And to sir Valentine becameA servant tried and true.And 'cause with bears he erst was bred,Ursine they call his name;A name which unto future timesThe Muses shall proclaim.

They roll'd and grappled on the ground,And there they struggled long:Skilful and active was the knight;The savage he was strong.

But brutal force and savage strengthTo art and skill must yield:Sir Valentine at length prevail'd,And won the well-fought field.

Then binding straight his conquer'd foeFast with an iron chain,He ties him to his horse's tail,And leads him o'er the plain.

To court his hairy captive soonSir Valentine doth bring;And kneeling down upon his knee,Presents him to the king.

With loss of blood and loss of strength,The savage tamer grew;And to sir Valentine becameA servant tried and true.

And 'cause with bears he erst was bred,Ursine they call his name;A name which unto future timesThe Muses shall proclaim.

IIn high renown with prince and peerNow liv'd sir Valentine:His high renown with prince and peerMade envious hearts repine.It chanc'd the king upon a dayPrepar'd a sumptuous feast:And there came lords and dainty dames,And many a noble guest.Amid their cups, that freely flow'd,Their revelry, and mirth,A youthful knight tax'd ValentineOf base and doubtful birth.The foul reproach, so grossly urg'd,His generous heart did wound:And straight he vow'd he ne'er would restTill he his parents found.Then bidding king and peers adieu,Early one summer's day,With faithful Ursine by his side,From court he took his way.O'er hill and valley, moss and moor,For many a day they pass;At length, upon a moated lake,[132]They found a bridge of brass.Beyond it rose a castle fair,Y-built of marble stone:The battlements were gilt with gold,And glittered in the sun.Beneath the bridge, with strange device,A hundred bells were hung;That man, nor beast, might pass thereon,But straight their larum rung.This quickly found the youthful pair,Who boldly crossing o'er,The jangling sound bedeaft their ears,And rung from shore to shore.Quick at the sound the castle gatesUnlock'd and opened wide,And straight a giant huge and grimStalk'd forth with stately pride.Now yield you, caitiffs, to my will,He cried with hideous roar;Or else the wolves shall eat your flesh,And ravens drink your gore.Vain boaster, said the youthful knight,I scorn thy threats and thee:I trust to force thy brazen gates,And set thy captives free.Then putting spurs unto his steed,He aim'd a dreadful thrust;The spear against the giant glanc'd,And caus'd the blood to burst.Mad and outrageous with the pain,He whirl'd his mace of steel:The very wind of such a blowHad made the champion reel.It haply missed; and now the knightHis glittering sword display'd,And riding round with whirlwind speedOft made him feel the blade.As when a large and monstrous oakUnceasing axes hew:So fast around the giant's limbsThe blows quick-darting flew.As when the boughs with hideous fallSome hapless woodman crush:With such a force the enormous foeDid on the champion rush.A fearful blow, alas! there came,Both horse and knight it took,And laid them senseless in the dust;So fatal was the stroke.Then smiling forth a hideous grin,The giant strides in haste,And, stooping, aims a second stroke:Now, caitiff, breathe thy last!But ere it fell, two thundering blowsUpon his scull descend:From Ursine's knotty club they came,Who ran to save his friend.Down sank the giant gaping wide,And rolling his grim eyes:The hairy youth repeats his blows:He gasps, he groans, he dies.Quickly sir Valentine reviv'd,With Ursine's timely care:And now to search the castle wallsThe venturous youths repair.The blood and bones of murder'd knightThey found where'er they came:At length within a lonely cellThey saw a mournful dame.Her gentle eyes were dimm'd with tears;Her cheeks were pale with woe;And long sir Valentine besoughtHer doleful tale to know.Alas! young knight, she weeping said,Condole my wretched fate;A childless mother here you see;A wife without a mate.These twenty winters here forlornI've drawn my hated breath;Sole witness of a monster's crimes,And wishing aye for death.Know, I am sister of a king,And in my early yearsWas married to a mighty prince,The fairest of his peers.With him I sweetly liv'd in loveA twelvemonth and a day:When, lo! a foul and treacherous priestY-wrought our loves' decay.His seeming goodness won him pow'r;He had his master's ear:And long to me and all the worldHe did a saint appear.One day, when we were all alone,He proffer'd odious love:The wretch with horror I repuls'd,And from my presence drove.He feign'd remorse, and piteous begg'dHis crime I'd not reveal:Which, for his seeming penitence,I promis'd to conceal.With treason, villainy, and wrong,My goodness he repay'd:With jealous doubts he fill'd my lord,And me to woe betray'd.He hid a slave within my bed,Then rais'd a bitter cry.My lord, possess'd with rage, condemn'dMe, all unheard, to die.But 'cause I then was great with child,At length my life he spar'd:But bade me instant quit the realm,One trusty knight my guard.Forth on my journey I depart,Oppressed with grief and woe:And tow'rds my brother's distant court,With breaking heart, I go.Long time thro' sundry foreign landsWe slowly pace along:At length, within a forest wild,I fell in labour strong:And while the knight for succour sought,And left me there forlorn,My childbed pains so fast increas'dTwo lovely boys were born.The eldest fair and smooth as snowThat tips the mountain hoar;The younger's little body roughWith hairs was cover'd o'er.But here afresh begin my woes:While tender care I tookTo shield my eldest from the cold,And wrap him in my cloak,A prowling bear burst from the wood,And seiz'd my younger son:Affection lent my weakness wings,And after them I run.But all forwearied, weak, and spent,I quickly swoon'd away;And there beneath the greenwood shadeLong time I lifeless lay.At length the knight brought me relief,And rais'd me from the ground:But neither of my pretty babesCould ever more be found.And, while in search we wander'd far,We met that giant grim;Who ruthless slew my trusty knight,And bare me off with him.But charm'd by heav'n, or else my griefs,He offer'd me no wrong;Save that within these lonely wallsI've been immur'd so long.Now surely, said the youthful knight,You are Lady Ballisance,Wife to the Grecian Emperor:Your brother's king of France.For in your royal brother's courtMyself my breeding had;Where oft the story of your woesHath made my bosom sad.If so, know your accuser's dead,And dying own'd his crime;And long your lord hath sought you outThro' every foreign clime.And when no tidings he could learnOf his much wrongèd wife,He vow'd thenceforth within his courtTo lead a hermit's life.Now heaven is kind! the lady said;And dropped a joyful tear:Shall I once more behold my lord?That lord I love so dear?But, madam, said sir Valentine,And knelt upon his knee;Know you the cloak that wrapt your babe,If you the same should see?And pulling forth the cloth of gold,In which himself was found;The lady gave a sudden shriek,And fainted on the ground.But by his pious care reviv'd,His tale she heard anon;And soon by other tokens found,He was indeed her son.But who's this hairy youth? she said;He much resembles thee:The bear devour'd my younger son,Or sure that son were he.Madam, this youth with bears was bred,And rear'd within their den.But recollect ye any markTo know your son again?Upon his little side, quoth she,Was stamped a bloody rose.Here, lady, see the crimson markUpon his body grows!Then clasping both her new-found sonsShe bath'd their cheeks with tears:And soon towards her brother's courtHer joyful course she steers.What pen can paint king Pepin's joy,His sister thus restor'd!And soon a messenger was sentTo cheer her drooping lord:Who came in haste with all his peers,To fetch her home to Greece;Where many happy years they reign'dIn perfect love and peace.To them sir Ursine did succeed,And long the sceptre bear.Sir Valentine he stay'd in France,And was his uncle's heir.

IIn high renown with prince and peerNow liv'd sir Valentine:His high renown with prince and peerMade envious hearts repine.

It chanc'd the king upon a dayPrepar'd a sumptuous feast:And there came lords and dainty dames,And many a noble guest.

Amid their cups, that freely flow'd,Their revelry, and mirth,A youthful knight tax'd ValentineOf base and doubtful birth.

The foul reproach, so grossly urg'd,His generous heart did wound:And straight he vow'd he ne'er would restTill he his parents found.

Then bidding king and peers adieu,Early one summer's day,With faithful Ursine by his side,From court he took his way.

O'er hill and valley, moss and moor,For many a day they pass;At length, upon a moated lake,[132]They found a bridge of brass.

Beyond it rose a castle fair,Y-built of marble stone:The battlements were gilt with gold,And glittered in the sun.

Beneath the bridge, with strange device,A hundred bells were hung;That man, nor beast, might pass thereon,But straight their larum rung.

This quickly found the youthful pair,Who boldly crossing o'er,The jangling sound bedeaft their ears,And rung from shore to shore.

Quick at the sound the castle gatesUnlock'd and opened wide,And straight a giant huge and grimStalk'd forth with stately pride.

Now yield you, caitiffs, to my will,He cried with hideous roar;Or else the wolves shall eat your flesh,And ravens drink your gore.

Vain boaster, said the youthful knight,I scorn thy threats and thee:I trust to force thy brazen gates,And set thy captives free.

Then putting spurs unto his steed,He aim'd a dreadful thrust;The spear against the giant glanc'd,And caus'd the blood to burst.

Mad and outrageous with the pain,He whirl'd his mace of steel:The very wind of such a blowHad made the champion reel.

It haply missed; and now the knightHis glittering sword display'd,And riding round with whirlwind speedOft made him feel the blade.

As when a large and monstrous oakUnceasing axes hew:So fast around the giant's limbsThe blows quick-darting flew.

As when the boughs with hideous fallSome hapless woodman crush:With such a force the enormous foeDid on the champion rush.

A fearful blow, alas! there came,Both horse and knight it took,And laid them senseless in the dust;So fatal was the stroke.

Then smiling forth a hideous grin,The giant strides in haste,And, stooping, aims a second stroke:Now, caitiff, breathe thy last!

But ere it fell, two thundering blowsUpon his scull descend:From Ursine's knotty club they came,Who ran to save his friend.

Down sank the giant gaping wide,And rolling his grim eyes:The hairy youth repeats his blows:He gasps, he groans, he dies.

Quickly sir Valentine reviv'd,With Ursine's timely care:And now to search the castle wallsThe venturous youths repair.

The blood and bones of murder'd knightThey found where'er they came:At length within a lonely cellThey saw a mournful dame.

Her gentle eyes were dimm'd with tears;Her cheeks were pale with woe;And long sir Valentine besoughtHer doleful tale to know.

Alas! young knight, she weeping said,Condole my wretched fate;A childless mother here you see;A wife without a mate.

These twenty winters here forlornI've drawn my hated breath;Sole witness of a monster's crimes,And wishing aye for death.

Know, I am sister of a king,And in my early yearsWas married to a mighty prince,The fairest of his peers.

With him I sweetly liv'd in loveA twelvemonth and a day:When, lo! a foul and treacherous priestY-wrought our loves' decay.

His seeming goodness won him pow'r;He had his master's ear:And long to me and all the worldHe did a saint appear.

One day, when we were all alone,He proffer'd odious love:The wretch with horror I repuls'd,And from my presence drove.

He feign'd remorse, and piteous begg'dHis crime I'd not reveal:Which, for his seeming penitence,I promis'd to conceal.

With treason, villainy, and wrong,My goodness he repay'd:With jealous doubts he fill'd my lord,And me to woe betray'd.

He hid a slave within my bed,Then rais'd a bitter cry.My lord, possess'd with rage, condemn'dMe, all unheard, to die.

But 'cause I then was great with child,At length my life he spar'd:But bade me instant quit the realm,One trusty knight my guard.

Forth on my journey I depart,Oppressed with grief and woe:And tow'rds my brother's distant court,With breaking heart, I go.

Long time thro' sundry foreign landsWe slowly pace along:At length, within a forest wild,I fell in labour strong:

And while the knight for succour sought,And left me there forlorn,My childbed pains so fast increas'dTwo lovely boys were born.

The eldest fair and smooth as snowThat tips the mountain hoar;The younger's little body roughWith hairs was cover'd o'er.

But here afresh begin my woes:While tender care I tookTo shield my eldest from the cold,And wrap him in my cloak,

A prowling bear burst from the wood,And seiz'd my younger son:Affection lent my weakness wings,And after them I run.

But all forwearied, weak, and spent,I quickly swoon'd away;And there beneath the greenwood shadeLong time I lifeless lay.

At length the knight brought me relief,And rais'd me from the ground:But neither of my pretty babesCould ever more be found.

And, while in search we wander'd far,We met that giant grim;Who ruthless slew my trusty knight,And bare me off with him.

But charm'd by heav'n, or else my griefs,He offer'd me no wrong;Save that within these lonely wallsI've been immur'd so long.

Now surely, said the youthful knight,You are Lady Ballisance,Wife to the Grecian Emperor:Your brother's king of France.

For in your royal brother's courtMyself my breeding had;Where oft the story of your woesHath made my bosom sad.

If so, know your accuser's dead,And dying own'd his crime;And long your lord hath sought you outThro' every foreign clime.

And when no tidings he could learnOf his much wrongèd wife,He vow'd thenceforth within his courtTo lead a hermit's life.

Now heaven is kind! the lady said;And dropped a joyful tear:Shall I once more behold my lord?That lord I love so dear?

But, madam, said sir Valentine,And knelt upon his knee;Know you the cloak that wrapt your babe,If you the same should see?

And pulling forth the cloth of gold,In which himself was found;The lady gave a sudden shriek,And fainted on the ground.

But by his pious care reviv'd,His tale she heard anon;And soon by other tokens found,He was indeed her son.

But who's this hairy youth? she said;He much resembles thee:The bear devour'd my younger son,Or sure that son were he.

Madam, this youth with bears was bred,And rear'd within their den.But recollect ye any markTo know your son again?

Upon his little side, quoth she,Was stamped a bloody rose.Here, lady, see the crimson markUpon his body grows!

Then clasping both her new-found sonsShe bath'd their cheeks with tears:And soon towards her brother's courtHer joyful course she steers.

What pen can paint king Pepin's joy,His sister thus restor'd!And soon a messenger was sentTo cheer her drooping lord:

Who came in haste with all his peers,To fetch her home to Greece;Where many happy years they reign'dIn perfect love and peace.

To them sir Ursine did succeed,And long the sceptre bear.Sir Valentine he stay'd in France,And was his uncle's heir.

FOOTNOTES:[132]i.e.A lake that served for a moat to a castle.

[132]i.e.A lake that served for a moat to a castle.

The King and Miller of Mansfield.

HHenry, our royal king, would ride a huntingTo the green forest, so pleasant and fair;To see the harts skipping, and dainty does tripping:Unto merry Sherwood his nobles repair:Hawk and hound were unbound, all things prepar'dFor the game, in the same, with good regard.All a long summer's day rode the king pleasantly,With all his princes and nobles each one;Chasing the hart and hind, and the buck gallantly,Till the dark evening forc'd all to turn home.Then at last, riding fast, he had lost quiteAll his lords in the wood, late in the night.Wandering thus wearily, all alone, up and down,With a rude miller he met at the last:Asking the ready way unto fair Nottingham;Sir, quoth the miller, I mean not to jest,Yet I think, what I think, sooth for to say,You do not lightly ride out of your way.Why, what dost thou think of me, quoth our king merrily,Passing thy judgment upon me so brief?Good faith, said the miller, I mean not to flatter thee;I guess thee to be but some gentleman thief;Stand thee back, in the dark; light not adown,Lest that I presently crack thy knave's crown.Thou dost abuse me much, quoth the king, saying thus;I am a gentleman; lodging I lack.Thou hast not, quoth th' miller, one groat in thy purse;All thy inheritance hangs on thy back.I have gold to discharge all that I call;[133]If it be forty pence, I will pay all.If thou beest a true man, then quoth the miller,I swear by my toll-dish, I'll lodge thee all night.Here's my hand, quoth the king; that was I ever.Nay, soft, quoth the miller, thou may'st be a sprite.Better I'll know thee, ere hands we will shake;With none but honest men hands will I take.Thus they went all along unto the miller's house:Where they were seething of puddings and souse:The miller first enter'd in; after him went the king;Never came he in so smoky a house.Now, quoth he, let me see here what you are.Quoth our king, look your fill, and do not spare.I like well thy countenance; thou hast an honest face;With my son Richard this night thou shalt lie.Quoth his wife, by my troth, it is a handsome youth;Yet it's best, husband, to deal warily.Art thou no runaway, prythee, youth, tell?Show me thy passport, and all shall be well.Then our king presently, making low courtesy,With his hat in his hand, thus he did say;I have no passport, nor never was servitor,But a poor courtier, rode out of my way:And for your kindness here offered to me,I will requite you in every degree.Then to the miller his wife whispered secretly,Saying, It seemeth this youth's of good kin,Both by his apparel, and eke by his manners;To turn him out, certainly, were a great sin.Yea, quoth he, you may see he hath some graceWhen he doth speak to his betters in place.Well, quo' the miller's wife, young man, ye're welcome here;And, though I say it, well lodgèd shall be:Fresh straw will I have laid on thy bed so brave,And good brown hempen sheets likewise, quoth she.Aye, quoth the good man; and when that is done,Thou shalt lie with no worse than our own son.

All a long summer's day rode the king pleasantly,With all his princes and nobles each one;Chasing the hart and hind, and the buck gallantly,Till the dark evening forc'd all to turn home.Then at last, riding fast, he had lost quiteAll his lords in the wood, late in the night.

Wandering thus wearily, all alone, up and down,With a rude miller he met at the last:Asking the ready way unto fair Nottingham;Sir, quoth the miller, I mean not to jest,Yet I think, what I think, sooth for to say,You do not lightly ride out of your way.

Why, what dost thou think of me, quoth our king merrily,Passing thy judgment upon me so brief?Good faith, said the miller, I mean not to flatter thee;I guess thee to be but some gentleman thief;Stand thee back, in the dark; light not adown,Lest that I presently crack thy knave's crown.

Thou dost abuse me much, quoth the king, saying thus;I am a gentleman; lodging I lack.Thou hast not, quoth th' miller, one groat in thy purse;All thy inheritance hangs on thy back.I have gold to discharge all that I call;[133]If it be forty pence, I will pay all.

If thou beest a true man, then quoth the miller,I swear by my toll-dish, I'll lodge thee all night.Here's my hand, quoth the king; that was I ever.Nay, soft, quoth the miller, thou may'st be a sprite.Better I'll know thee, ere hands we will shake;With none but honest men hands will I take.

Thus they went all along unto the miller's house:Where they were seething of puddings and souse:The miller first enter'd in; after him went the king;Never came he in so smoky a house.Now, quoth he, let me see here what you are.Quoth our king, look your fill, and do not spare.

I like well thy countenance; thou hast an honest face;With my son Richard this night thou shalt lie.Quoth his wife, by my troth, it is a handsome youth;Yet it's best, husband, to deal warily.Art thou no runaway, prythee, youth, tell?Show me thy passport, and all shall be well.

Then our king presently, making low courtesy,With his hat in his hand, thus he did say;I have no passport, nor never was servitor,But a poor courtier, rode out of my way:And for your kindness here offered to me,I will requite you in every degree.

Then to the miller his wife whispered secretly,Saying, It seemeth this youth's of good kin,Both by his apparel, and eke by his manners;To turn him out, certainly, were a great sin.Yea, quoth he, you may see he hath some graceWhen he doth speak to his betters in place.

Well, quo' the miller's wife, young man, ye're welcome here;And, though I say it, well lodgèd shall be:Fresh straw will I have laid on thy bed so brave,And good brown hempen sheets likewise, quoth she.Aye, quoth the good man; and when that is done,Thou shalt lie with no worse than our own son.

THE KING AND THE MILLER OF MANSFIELD.THE KING AND THE MILLER OF MANSFIELD.

This caus'd the king, suddenly, to laugh most heartily,Till the tears trickled fast down from his eyes.Then to their supper were they set orderly,With hot bag-puddings and good apple-pies;Nappy ale, good and stale, in a brown bowl,Which did about the board merrily trowl.Here, quoth the miller, good fellow, I drink to thee,And to all courtiers, wherever they be.I pledge thee, quoth our king, and thank thee heartilyFor my welcome in every good degree:And here, in like manner, I drink to thy son.Do then, quoth Richard, and quick let it come.Wife, quoth the miller, fetch me forth lightfoot,And of his sweetness a little we'll taste.A fair ven'son pasty brought she out presently.Eat, quoth the miller, but, sir, make no waste.Here's dainty lightfoot! In faith, said the king,I never before eat so dainty a thing.I wis, quoth Richard, no dainty at all it is,For we do eat of it every day.In what place, said our king, may be bought like to this?We never pay penny for it, by my fay:From merry Sherwood we fetch it home here;Now and then we make bold with our king's deer.Then I think, said our king, that it is venison.Each fool, quoth Richard, full well may know that:Never are we without two or three in the roof,Very well fleshed, and excellent fat:But, prythee, say nothing wherever thou go;We would not, for two pence, the king should it know.Doubt not, then said the king, my promised secrecy;The king shall never know more on't for me.A cup of lambs-wool[134]they drank unto him then,And to their beds they passed presently.The nobles, next morning, went all up and down,For to seek out the king in every town.At last, at the miller's cot, soon they espy'd him out,As he was mounting upon his fair steed;To whom they came presently, falling down on their knee;Which made the miller's heart wofully bleed;Shaking and quaking, before him he stood,Thinking he should have been hang'd, by the Rood.The king perceiving him fearfully tremblingDrew forth his sword, but nothing he said:The miller down did fall, crying before them all,Doubting the king would cut off his head.But he, his kind courtesy for to requite,Gave him great living, and dubb'd him a knight.

Here, quoth the miller, good fellow, I drink to thee,And to all courtiers, wherever they be.I pledge thee, quoth our king, and thank thee heartilyFor my welcome in every good degree:And here, in like manner, I drink to thy son.Do then, quoth Richard, and quick let it come.

Wife, quoth the miller, fetch me forth lightfoot,And of his sweetness a little we'll taste.A fair ven'son pasty brought she out presently.Eat, quoth the miller, but, sir, make no waste.Here's dainty lightfoot! In faith, said the king,I never before eat so dainty a thing.

I wis, quoth Richard, no dainty at all it is,For we do eat of it every day.In what place, said our king, may be bought like to this?We never pay penny for it, by my fay:From merry Sherwood we fetch it home here;Now and then we make bold with our king's deer.

Then I think, said our king, that it is venison.Each fool, quoth Richard, full well may know that:Never are we without two or three in the roof,Very well fleshed, and excellent fat:But, prythee, say nothing wherever thou go;We would not, for two pence, the king should it know.

Doubt not, then said the king, my promised secrecy;The king shall never know more on't for me.A cup of lambs-wool[134]they drank unto him then,And to their beds they passed presently.The nobles, next morning, went all up and down,For to seek out the king in every town.

At last, at the miller's cot, soon they espy'd him out,As he was mounting upon his fair steed;To whom they came presently, falling down on their knee;Which made the miller's heart wofully bleed;Shaking and quaking, before him he stood,Thinking he should have been hang'd, by the Rood.

The king perceiving him fearfully tremblingDrew forth his sword, but nothing he said:The miller down did fall, crying before them all,Doubting the king would cut off his head.But he, his kind courtesy for to requite,Gave him great living, and dubb'd him a knight.

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