ROBIN GOODFELLOWErnest Rhys

Once upon a time, a great while ago, when men did eat and drink less, and were more honest, and knew no knavery, there was wont to walk many harmless sprites called fairies, dancing in brave order in fairy rings on green hills with sweet music. Sometimes they were invisible, and sometimes took divers shapes. Many mad pranks would they play, as pinching of untidy damsels black and blue, and misplacing things in ill-ordered houses; but lovingly would they use good girls, giving them silver and other pretty toys, which they would leave for them, sometimes in their shoes, other times in their pockets, sometimes in bright basins and other clean vessels.

Now it chanced that in those happy days, a babe was born in a house to which the fairiesdid like well to repair. This babe was a boy, and the fairies, to show their pleasure, brought many pretty things thither, coverlets and delicate linen for his cradle; and capons, woodcock, and quail for the christening, at which there was so much good cheer that the clerk had almost forgot to say the babe's name—Robin Goodfellow. So much for the birth and christening of little Robin.

When Robin was grown to six years of age, he was so knavish that all the neighbors did complain of him; for, no sooner was his mother's back turned, but he was in one knavish action or other, so that his mother was constrained (to avoid the complaints) to take him with her to market or wheresoever she went or rode. But this helped little or nothing, for, if he rode before her, then would he make mouths and ill-favored faces at those he met: if he rode behind her, then would he clap his hand on the tail; so that his mother was weary of the many complaints that came against him. Yet knew she not how to beat him justly for it, because she never saw him do that which was worthy of blows. The complaints weredaily so renewed that his mother promised him a whipping. Robin did not like that cheer, and, therefore, to avoid it, he ran away, and left his mother a-sorrowing for him.

After Robin had travelled a good day's journey from his mother's house he sat down, and, being weary, he fell asleep. No sooner had slumber closed his eye-lids, but he thought he saw many goodly proper little personages in antic measures tripping about him, and withal he heard such music, as he thought that Orpheus, that famous Greek fiddler (had he been alive), compared to one of these had been but a poor musician. As delights commonly last not long, so did those end sooner than Robin would willingly they should have done; and for very grief he awaked, and found by him lying a scroll wherein was written these lines following, in golden letters:—

"Robin, my only son and heir,How to live take thou no care:By nature thou hast cunning shifts,Which I'll increase with other gifts.Wish what thou wilt, thou shalt it have;And for to fetch both fool and knave,Thou hast the power to change thy shape,To horse, to hog, to dog, to ape,Transformed thus, by any meansSee none thou harm'st but knaves and queans:But love thou those that honest be,And help them in necessity.Do thus and all the world shall knowThe pranks of Robin Goodfellow,For by that name thou called shalt beTo age's last posterity;And if thou keep my just command,One day thou shalt see Fairy-land!"

"Robin, my only son and heir,

How to live take thou no care:

By nature thou hast cunning shifts,

Which I'll increase with other gifts.

Wish what thou wilt, thou shalt it have;

And for to fetch both fool and knave,

Thou hast the power to change thy shape,

To horse, to hog, to dog, to ape,

Transformed thus, by any means

See none thou harm'st but knaves and queans:

But love thou those that honest be,

And help them in necessity.

Do thus and all the world shall know

The pranks of Robin Goodfellow,

For by that name thou called shalt be

To age's last posterity;

And if thou keep my just command,

One day thou shalt see Fairy-land!"

Robin, having read this, was very joyful, yet longed he to know whether he had the power or not, and to try it he wished for some meat. Presently a fine dish of roast veal was before him. Then wished he for plum-pudding; he straightway had it. This liked him well, and, because he was weary, he wished himself a horse: no sooner was his wish ended, but he was changed into as fine a nag as you need see, and leaped and curveted as nimbly as ifhe had been in stable at rack and manger a full month. Then he wished himself a black dog, and he was so; then a green tree, and he was so. So from one thing to another, till he was quite sure that he could change himself to anything whatsoever he liked.

Thereupon, full of delight at his new powers, Robin Goodfellow set out, eager to put them to the test.

As he was crossing a field, he met with a red-faced carter's clown and called to him to stop.

"Friend," quoth he, "what is a clock?"

"A thing," answered the clown, "that shows the time of the day."

"Why, then," said Robin Goodfellow, "be thou a clock and tell me what time of the day it is."

"I owe thee not so much service," answered the clown again, "but, because thou shalt think thyself beholden to me, know that it is the same time of the day as it was yesterday at this time!"

These shrewd answers vexed Robin Goodfellow, so that in himself he vowed to be revengedof the clown, which he did in this manner.

Robin Goodfellow turned himself into a bird and followed this fellow, who was going into a field a little from that place to catch a horse that was at grass. The horse, being wild, ran over dyke and hedge, and the fellow after, but to little purpose, for the horse was too swift for him. Robin was glad of this occasion, for now or never was the time to have his revenge.

Presently Robin shaped himself exactly like the horse that the clown followed, and so stood right before him. Then the clown took hold of the horse's mane and got on his back, but he had not ridden far when, with a stumble, Robin hurled his rider over his head, so that he almost broke his neck. But then again he stood still and let the clown mount him once more.

By the way which the clown now would ride was a great pond of water of a good depth, which covered the road. No sooner did he ride into the very middle of the pond than Robin Goodfellow turned himself into a fish,and so left him with nothing but the pack-saddle on which he was riding betwixt his legs. Meanwhile the fish swiftly swam to the bank. And then Robin, changed to a naughty boy again, ran away laughing, "Ho, ho, hoh!" leaving the poor clown half drowned and covered with mud.

As Robin took his way along a green hedge-side he fell to singing:—

"And can the doctor make sick men well?And can the gipsy a fortune tellWithout lily, germander, and cockle-shell?With sweet-brier,And bon-fireAnd strawberry wine,And columbine."

"And can the doctor make sick men well?

And can the gipsy a fortune tell

Without lily, germander, and cockle-shell?

With sweet-brier,

And bon-fire

And strawberry wine,

And columbine."

And when he had sung this over, he fell to wondering what he should next turn himself into. Then, as he saw the smoke rise from the chimneys of the next town, he thought to himself it would be to him great sport to walk the streets with a broom on his shoulder, and cry:

"Chimney sweep."

But when presently Robin did this, and one did call him, then did Robin run away laughing, "Ho, ho, hoh!"

Next he set about to counterfeit a lame beggar, begging very pitifully; but when a stout chandler came out of his shop to give Robin an alms, again he skipped off nimbly, laughing as his naughty manner was.

That same night, he did knock at many men's doors, and when the servants came out he blew out their candle and straightway vanished in the dark street, with his "Ho, ho, hoh!"

All these mirthful tricks did Robin play, that day and night, and in these humours of his he had many pretty songs, one of which I will sing as perfectly as I can. He sang it in his chimney-sweeper's humour, to the tune of "I have been a fiddler these fifteen years."

"Black I am from head to foot,And all doth come by chimney soot.Then, maidens, come and cherish himThat makes your chimneys neat and trim."

"Black I am from head to foot,

And all doth come by chimney soot.

Then, maidens, come and cherish him

That makes your chimneys neat and trim."

But it befell that, on the very next night to his playing the chimney-sweep, Robin had a summons from the land where are no chimneys. For King Oberon, seeing Robin Goodfellow do so many merry tricks, called him out of his bed with these words, saying:—

"Robin, my son, come; quickly rise:First stretch, then yawn, and rub your eyes;For thou must go with me tonight,And taste of Fairy-land's delight."

"Robin, my son, come; quickly rise:

First stretch, then yawn, and rub your eyes;

For thou must go with me tonight,

And taste of Fairy-land's delight."

Robin, hearing this, rose and went to him. There were with King Oberon many fairies, all attired in green. All these, with King Oberon, did welcome Robin Goodfellow into their company. Oberon took Robin by the hand and led him a fair dance: their musician had an excellent bag-pipe made of a wren's quill and the skin of a Greenland fly. This pipe was so shrill and so sweet that a Scottish pipe, compared to it, would no more come near it than a Jew's-harp doth to an Irish harp. After they had danced, King Oberon said to Robin:—

"Whene'er you hear the piper blow,Round and round the fairies go!And nightly you must with us dance,In meadows where the moonbeams glance,And make the circle, hand in hand—That is the law of Fairy-land!There thou shalt see what no man knows;While sleep the eyes of men doth close!"

"Whene'er you hear the piper blow,

Round and round the fairies go!

And nightly you must with us dance,

In meadows where the moonbeams glance,

And make the circle, hand in hand—

That is the law of Fairy-land!

There thou shalt see what no man knows;

While sleep the eyes of men doth close!"

So marched they, with their piper before, to the Fairy-land. There did King Oberon show Robin Goodfellow many secrets, which he never did open to the world. And there, in Fairy-land, doth Robin Goodfellow abide now this many a long year.

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