Chapter II: Preface (2)

"Now come with me, thou wighty yeman,
And Robin thou soone shalt see:
But first let us some pastime find
Under the greenwood tree.

"First let us some masterye make
Among the woods so even,
We may chance to meet with Robin Hood,
Here at some unsett steven."[27]

They cut them down two summer shroggs,[28]
That grew both under a breere,
And sett them threescore rood in twaine,
To shoote the prickes y-fere.[29]

"Leade on, good fellowe," quoth Robin Hood,
"Leade on, I do bidd thee."
"Nay, by my faith, good fellowe," hee sayd,
"My leader thou shalt bee."

The first time Robin shot at the pricke,
He mist but an inch it fro;
The yeoman he was an archer good,
But he cold never do soe.

The second shoote had the wighty yeman,
He shot within the garland:
But Robin he shott far better than hee,
For he clave the good pricke-wande.

"A blessing upon thy heart," he sayd,
"Good fellowe, thy shooting is goode;
For an thy hart be as good as thy hand,
Thou wert better than Robin Hood.

"Now tell me thy name, good fellowe," sayd he,
"Under the leaves of lyne."
"Nay, by my faith," quoth bold Robin,
"Till thou have told me thine."

"I dwell by dale and downe," quoth hee,
"And Robin to take I am sworne;
And when I am called by my right name
I am Guy of good Gisborne."

"My dwelling is in the wood," says Robin,
"By thee I set right nought:
I am Robin Hood of Barnesdale,
Whom thou so long hast sought."

He that had neyther beene kythe nor kin,
Might have seen a full fayre fight,
To see how together these yeomen went,
With blades both browne and bright.

To see how these yeomen together they fought
Two howres of a summer's day':
Yet neither Robin Hood nor sir[30] Guy
Them settled to flye away.

Robin was reachles on a roote,
And stumbled at that tyde;
And Guy was quicke and nimble withall
And hitt him upon the syde.

"Ah, deere ladye," says Robin Hood tho,
"That art but mother and may,
I think it was never man's destinye
To dye before his day."

Robin thought on our ladye deere,
And soone leapt up again,
And strait he came with an awkwarde stroke
And he sir Guy hath slayne.

He took sir Guy's head by the hayre,
And stuck it upon his bowes end:
"Thou hast beene a traytor all thy life,
Which thing must have an end."

Robin pulled forth an Irish knife,
And nicked sir Guy in the face,
That he was never on woman born
Cold know whose head it was.

Sayes, "Lye there, lye there, now Sir Guye,
And with me be not wrothe;
Iff thou have had the worst strokes at my hand,
Thou shalt have the better clothe."

Robin did off his gown of greene,
And on sir Guy did throwe,
And he put on that capull hyde,
That cladd him topp to toe.

"Thy bowe, thy arrowes, and little horne,
Now with me I will beare;
For I will away to Barnesdale,
To see how my men doe fare."

Robin Hood sett Guye's horne to his mouth,
And a loude blast in it did blow:
That beheard the sheriffe of Nottingham,
As he lean'd under a lowe.[31]

"Hearken, hearken," sayd the sheriffe,
"I heare nowe tydings good,
For yonder I hear Sir Guye's horne blow,
And he hath slaine Robin Hood.

"Yonder I heare Sir Guye's horne blowe,
Itt blowes soe well in tyde,
And yonder comes that wightye yeoman,
Cladd in his capull hide.

"Come hyther, come hyther, thou good Sir Guy
Aske what thou wilt of mee."
"O I will none of thy gold," sayd Robin,
"Nor I will none of thy fee:

"But now I have slaine the master," he says,
"Let me goe strike the knave;
For this is all the mede I aske;
None other rewarde I'le have."

"Thou art a madman," sayd the sheriffe,
"Thou sholdst have had a knight's fee:
But seeing thy asking hath beene soe bad,
Well granted it shall bee."

When little John heard his master speake,
Well knewe he it was his steven:
"Now shall I be looset," quoth little John,
"With Christ his might in heaven."

Fast Robin hee hyed him to Little John,
He thought to loose him blive;[32]
The sheriffe and all his companye
Fast after him can drive.

"Stand abacke, stand abacke," sayd Robin,
"Why draw you mee so neere?
It was never the use in our countrye,
One's shrift[33] another shold heere."

But Robin pulled forth an Irish knife,
And losed John hand and foote,
And gave him Sir Guye's bow into his hand,
And bade it be his boote.

Then John he took Guye's bow in his hand,
His boltes and arrowes eche one:
When the sheriffe saw Little John bend his bow,
He fettled him to begone.

Towards his house in Nottingham towne,
He fled full fast away;
And soe did all the companye:
Not one behind wold stay.

But he cold neither runne soe fast,
Nor away soe fast cold ryde,
But Little John with an arrowe soe broad,
He shott him into the backe syde.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 11: Stukeley's Palæographia Britannica, No. I. _passim_. Leland's Collectanea, I. 54. See Ritson's _Robin Hood_.]

[Footnote 12: Grafton's Chron. 85. Fordun, 774.]

[Footnote 13: Leland's Itinerary, v. 101.]

[Footnote 14: Sloane MS.]

[Footnote 15: He is supposed to have died about 1520, at the age of sixty.]

[Footnote 16: Little woods.]

[Footnote 17: Shrubs. "When the fields are in their beauty."]

[Footnote 18: Dream.]

[Footnote 19: Prepare.]

[Footnote 20: Get ready.]

[Footnote 21: Strong.]

[Footnote 22: Horse.]

[Footnote 23: Mischief.]

[Footnote 24: i. e. ways, paths. Gate is a common word in the north for "way."]

[Footnote 25: A slip of greensward between plough-lands, woods, &c.]

[Footnote 26: Woe, sorrow.]

[Footnote 27: _Unsett steven_--unlooked for time. Steven, see Glossary.]

[Footnote 28: Thorns, briars.]

[Footnote 29: Together.]

[Footnote 30: The title of "Sir" was not formerly peculiar to knights, it was given to priests, and sometimes to very inferior personages. Dr. Johnson thinks this title was applied to such as had taken the degree of A. B. in the universities.]

[Footnote 31: A little hill.]

[Footnote 32: Immediately, quickly.]

[Footnote 33: Confession.]

THE JOLLY PINDER OF WAKEFIELD;

WITH ROBIN HOOD, SCARLET, AND JOHN.

Several lines of this ballad are quoted in the two old plays of the "Downfall," and "Death of Robert, earl of Huntington," 1601, 4to., black letter, but acted many years before. It is also alluded to in Shakespeare's "Merry Wives of Windsor," Act I. Scene 1; and again, in his second part of "King Henry IV." Act V. Scene 3.

Sung "_To an excellent tune_."

In Wakefield there lives a jolly pinder,
In Wakefield all on a green,
In Wakefield all on a green:
"There is neither knight nor squire," said the pinder,
"Nor baron that is so bold,
Nor baron that is so bold,
Dare make a trespass to the town of Wakefield,
But his pledge goes to the pinfold,
But his pledge goes to the pinfold."

All this be heard three witty young men,
'Twas Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John;
With that they espy'd the jolly pinder,
As he sat under a thorn.

"Now turn again, turn again," said the pinder,
"For a wrong way you have gone;
For you have forsaken the king's highway,
And made a path over the corn."

"O that were a shame," said jolly Robin,
"We being three, and thou but one."
The pinder lept back then thirty good foot,
'Twas thirty good foot and one.

He leaned his back fast unto a thorn,
And his foot against a stone,
And there he fought a long summer's day,
A summer's day so long;
Till that their swords on their broad bucklers
Were broke fast into their hands.

"Hold thy hand, hold thy hand," said bold Robin Hood,
"And my merry men every one;
For this is one of the best pinders
That ever I tryed with sword.

"And wilt thou forsake thy pinder's craft,
And live in the green-wood with me?"
"At Michaelmas next my cov'nant comes out,
When every man gathers his fee;

"Then I'le take my blew blade all in my hand
And plod to the green-wood with thee."
"Hast thou either meat or drink," said Robin Hood,
"For my merry men and me?"

"I have both bread and beef," said the pinder,
"And good ale of the best."
"And that is meat good enough," said Robin Hood,
For such unbidden guests.

"O wilt thou forsake the pinder his craft,
And go to the green-wood with me?
Thou shalt have a livery twice a year,
The one green, the other brown."

"If Michaelmas-day was come and gone,
And my master had paid me my fee,
Then would I set as little by him,
As my master doth by me."[34]

FOOTNOTE:

[Footnote 34: The above ballad is from an old black-letter copy in Anthony à Wood's collection, compared with two others in the British Museum. In 1557 certain "ballets" are entered on the books of the Stationers' Company, "to John Wallye and Mrs. Toye," one of which is entitled, "of wakefylde and a grene," meaning probably this ballad.]

THE NOBLE FISHERMAN;

OR, ROBIN HOOD'S PREFERMENT.

From three old black-letter copies; one in the collection of Anthony à Wood, another in the British Museum, and the third in a private collection.

In summer time, when leaves grow green,
When they doe grow both green and long,
Of a bold outlaw, call'd Robin Hood,
It is of him I sing this song:--

When the lily leafe, and cowslip sweet
Both bud and spring with a merry cheere,
This outlaw was weary of the wood side,
And chasing of the fallow deere.

"The fishermen brave more mony have
Than any merchants two or three;
Therefore I will to Scarborough go,
That I a fisherman brave may be."

This outlaw called his merry men all,
As they sate under the green-wood tree:
"If any of you have gold to spend,
I pray you heartily spend it with me."

"Now," quoth Robin Hood, "Ile to Scarborough go,
It seems to be a very faire day."
He tooke up his inne at a widdow woman's house,
Hard by upon the water gray.

Who asked of him, "Where wert thou borne?
Or tell to me where dost thou fare?"
"I am a poor fisherman," said he then,
"This day intrapp'd all in care."

"What is thy name, thou fine fellow,
I pray thee heartily tell it to mee?"
"In my own country where I was borne,
Men call me Simon over the Lee."

"Simon, Simon," said the good wife,
"I wish thou mayest well brook thy name."
The outlaw was aware of her courtesie,
And rejoyced he had got such a dame.

"Simon, wilt thou be my man?
And good round wages I'le give thee;
I have as good a ship of my own,
As any sails upon the sea.

"Anchors and planks thou shalt not want,
Masts and ropes that are so long."
"And if you thus do furnish me,"
Said Simon, "nothing shall goe wrong."

They pluckt up anchor, and away did sayle,
More of a day then two or three;
When others cast in their baited hooks,
The bare line into the sea cast he.

"It will be long," said the master then,
"Ere this great lubber do thrive on the sea;
I'le assure you he shall have no part of our fish,
For in truth he is no part worthy."

"O, woe is me!" said Simon then,
"This day that ever I came here;
I wish I were in Plompton parke,
In chasing of the fallow deere.

"For every clowne laughs me to scorne,
And they by me set nought at all;
If I had them in Plompton parke,
I would set as little by them all."

They pluckt up anchor, and away did sayle,
More of a day then two or three:
But Simon espyed a ship of warre,
That sayled towards them most valorously.

"O, woe is me," said the master then,
"This day that ever I was borne;
For all our fish we have got to day,
Is every bit lost and forlorne.

"For these French robbers on the sea,
They will not spare of us one man,
But carry us to the coast of France,
And ligge us in the prison strong."

But Simon said, "Doe not feare them,
Neither, master, take you no care;
Give me my bent bow in my hand,
And never a Frenchman will I spare."

"Hold thy peace, thou long lubber,
For thou art nought but brags and boast;
If I should cast thee overboard,
There's but a simple lubber lost."

Simon grew angry at these words,
And so angry then was he,
That he took his bent bow in his hand,
And in the ship hatch goe doth he.

"Master, tye me to the mast," saith he,
"That at my mark I may stand fair,
And give me my bent bow in my hand,
And never a Frenchman will I spare."

He drew his arrow to the very head,
And drew it with all might and maine,
And straightway, in the twinkling of an eye,
To the Frenchman's heart the arrow's gane.

The Frenchman fell down on the ship hatch,
And under the hatches down below;
Another Frenchman that him espy'd
The dead corpse into the see doth throw.

"O, master, loose me from the mast," he said,
"And for them all take you no care;
For give me my bent bow in my hand,
And never a Frenchman will I spare."

Then streight they boarded the French ship,
They lyeing all dead in their sight;
They found within their ship of warre,
Twelve thousand pound of money bright.

"The one halfe of the ship," said Simon then,
"Ile give to my dame and [her] children small;
The other halfe of the ship Ile bestow
On you that are my fellows all."

But now bespoke the master then,
"For so, Simon, it shall not be,
For you have won it with your own hand,
And the owner of it you shall be."

"It shall be so, as I have said,
And, with this gold, for the opprest,
An habitation I will build,
Where they shall live in peace and rest."

ROBIN HOOD AND THE CURTALL FRYER OF FOUNTAINS ABBEY.

The Curtal Friar here mentioned is undoubtedly the person so frequently occurring in the ballads, as one of the companions of Robin Hood, under the name of _Friar Tuck_. He is thus mentioned by Skelton, laureate, in his "Goodly Interlude of Magnificence," written about the year 1500, and with an evident allusion to some game now forgotten:--

"Another bade shave halfe my berde,
And boyes to the pylery gan me plucke,
And wolde have made me freer Tucke,
To preche oute of the pylery hole."

The Curtal Friars were named, according to Dr. Stukeley, from the cord or rope which they wore round their waist, to whip themselves with, and were of the Franciscan order. Our friar is undoubtedly so called from his curtal dogs, or curs as we now call them, for in fact he was not a friar, but a monk of Fountains Abbey, which was of the Cistercian order. Robin Hood's bow is said by Ray to have been preserved in Fountains Abbey.[35]

The following ballad is from an old black-letter copy in the collection of A. à Wood, corrected by a much earlier one in the Pepysian library, printed by H. Gosson, _circa_ 1610.

In summer time, when leaves grow green,
And flowers are fresh and gay,
Robin Hood and his merry men
Were disposed to play.

Then some would leape, and some would runne,
And some would use artillery;
"Which of you can a good bow draw,
A good archer for to be?

"Which of you can kill a bucke,
Or who can kill a doe;
Or who can kill a hart of Greece,
Five hundreth foot him fro?"

Will Scadlocke he kild a bucke,
And Midge he kild a doe;
And Little John kild a hart of Greece,
Five hundreth foot him fro.

"God's blessing on thy heart," said Robin Hood,
"That hath such a shot for me;
I would ride my horse a hundred miles,
To find one could match thee."

That caused Will Scadlocke to laugh,
He laughed full heartily:
"There lives a curtall fryer in Fountaines Abbey
Will beate both him and thee.

"The curtail fryer in Fountaines Abbey
Well can a strong bow draw,
He will beat you and your yeomen,
Set them all on a row."

Robin Hood he tooke a solemne oath,
It was by Mary free,
That he would neither eate nor drinke,
'Till the fryer he did see.

Robin Hood put on his harnesse good,
On his head a cap of steel,
Broad sword and buckler by his side,
And they became him weele.

He tooke his bow into his hand,
It was made of a trusty tree,
With a sheafe of arrowes at his belt,
And to Fountaine Dale went he.

And comming unto Fountaine Dale,
No further he would ride;
There he was aware of the curtall fryer,
Walking by the water side.

The fryer had on a harnesse good,
On his head a cap of steel,
Broad sword and buckler by his side,
And they became him weele.

Robin Hood lighted off his horse,
And tyed him to a thorne:
"Carry me over the water, thou curtall fryer,
Or else thy life's forlorne."

The fryer tooke Robin Hood on his backe,
Deepe water he did bestride,
And spake neither good word nor bad,
'Till he came at the other side.

Lightly leapt Robin offe the fryer's backe;
The fryer said to him againe,
"Carry me over this water, thou fine fellow,
Or it shall breed thy paine."

Robin Hood took the fryer on his backe,
Deepe water he did bestride,
And spake neither good word nor bad,
'Till he came at the other side.

Lightly leapt the fryer off Robin Hood's backe,
Robin Hood said to him againe,
"Carry me over this water, thou curtall fryer,
Or it shall breede thy paine."

The fryer tooke Robin on's backe againe,
And stept in to the knee,
'Till he came at the middle streame,
Neither good nor bad spake he;

And comming to the middle streame,
There he threw Robin in;
"And chuse thee, chuse thee, fine fellow,
Whether thou wilt sink or swim."

Robin Hood swam to a bush of broome,
The fryer to a wigger[36] wand;
Bold Robin Hood is gone to shore,
And took his bowe in his hand.

One of his best arrowes under his belt,
To the fryer he let fly;
The curtall fryer with his Steele buckler,
Did put that arrow by.

"Shoot on, shoot on, thou fine fellow,
Shoot as thou hast begun;
If thou shoot here a summer's day,
Thy marke I will not shun."

Robin Hood shot passing well,
'Till his arrows all were gane;
They tooke their swords and steele bucklers,
They fought with might and maine.

From ten o' th' clock that very day,
Till four i' th' afternoon;
Then Robin Hood came to his knees,
Of the fryer to beg a boone.

"A boone, a boone, thou curtall fryer,
I beg it on my knee;
Give me leave to set my horne to my mouth,
And to blow blasts three."

"That I will do," said the curtall fryer,
"Of thy blasts I have no doubt;
I hope thoult blow so passing well,
'Till both thy eyes fall out."

Robin Hood set his horne to his mouth,
He blew out blasts three;
Halfe a hundreth yeomen, with bowes bent,
Came raking over the lee.

"Whose men are these," said the fryer,
"That come so hastily?"
"These are mine;" said Robin Hood,
"Fryer, what is that to thee?"

"A boone, a boone," said the curtall fryer,
"The like I gave to thee;
Give me leave to set my fist to my mouth,
And to whute whues three."

"That will I doe," said Robin Hood,
"Or else I were to blame;
Three whues in a fryer's fist
Would make me glad and faine."

The fryer set his fist to his mouth,
And whuted whues three:
Halfe a hundreth good band-dogs[37]
Came running over the lee.

"Here's for every man a dog,
And I myselfe for thee."
"Nay, by my faith," said Robin Hood,
"Fryer, that may not be."

Two dogs at once to Robin Hood did goe,
The one behind, the other before,
Robin Hood's mantle of Lincolne greene
Off from his backe they tore.

And whether his men shot east or west,
Or they shot north or south,
The curtall dogs so taught they were,
They kept the arrows in their mouth.

"Take up thy dogs," said Little John,
"Fryer, at my bidding be."
"Whose man art thou," said the curtall fryer,
"Comes here to prate with me?"

"I am Little John, Robin Hood's man,
Fryer, I will not lie;
If thou take not up thy dogs soone,
I'le take up them and thee."

Little John had a bow in his hand,
He shot with might and main;
Soon halfe a score of the fryer's dogs
Lay dead upon the plain.

"Hold thy hand, good fellow," said the curtall fryer,
"Thy master and I will agree;
And we will have new orders taken
With all the hast may be."

"If thou wilt forsake fair Fountaines Dale,
And Fountaines Abbey free,
Every Sunday throwout the yeere,
A noble shall be thy fee:

"And every holliday through the yeere,
Changed shall thy garment be,
If thou wilt goe to faire Nottingham,
And there remaine with me."

This curtall fryer had kept Fountaines Dale
Seven long yeeres and more,
There was neither knight, lord, nor earle,
Could make him yield before.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 35: Itineraries, 161.]

[Footnote 36: Willow.]

[Footnote 37: So called from their being tied up at night.]

THE BISHOP OF HEREFORD'S ENTERTAINMENT

BY ROBIN HOOD AND LITTLE JOHN,

IN MERRY BARNSDALE.

"Along on the lift hond," says Leland, "a iii. miles of betwixt Milburne and Feribridge, I saw the wooddi and famose forrest of Barnesdale;[38] wher thay say that Robyn Hudde lyvid like an outlaw."[39] This ballad is supposed to be modern, from the Aldermary church-yard press, compared with the York copy.

Some they will talk of bold Robin Hood,
And some of barons bold;
But I'll tell you how he serv'd the bishop of Hereford,
When he robb'd him of his gold.

As it befel in merry Barnsdale,
All under the green-wood tree,
The bishop of Hereford was to come by,
With all his company.

"Come, kill a ven'son," said bold Robin Hood,
"Come, kill me a good fat deer,
The bishop of Hereford is to dine with me to-day,
And he shall pay well for his cheer.

"We'll kill a fat ven'son," said bold Robin Hood,
"And dress it by the highway side;
And we will watch the bishop narrowly,
Lest some other way he should ride."

Robin Hood dress'd himself in shepherd's attire,
With six of his men also;
And, when the bishop of Hereford came by,
They about the fire did go.

"O, what is the matter?" then said the bishop,
"Or for whom do you make this a-do?
Or why do you kill the king's ven'son,
When your company is so few?"

"We are shepherds," said bold Robin Hood,
"And we keep sheep all the year,
And we are disposed to be merry this day,
And to kill of the king's fat deer."

"You are brave fellows!" said the bishop,
"And the king of your doings shall know;
Therefore make haste, and come along with me,
For before the king you shall go."

"O pardon, O pardon," said bold Robin Hood,
"O pardon, I thee pray;
For it becomes not your lordship's coat
To take so many lives away."

"No pardon, no pardon," said the bishop,
"No pardon I thee owe,
Therefore make haste, and come along with me,
For before the king you shall go."

Then Robin set his back against a tree,
And his foot against a thorn,
And from underneath his shepherd's coat
He pull'd out a bugle horn.

He put the little end to his mouth,
And a loud blast did he blow,
'Till threescore and ten of bold Robin's men
Came running all on a row;

All making obeysance to bold Robin Hood,
'Twas a comely sight for to see:--
"What is the matter, master," said Little John,
"That you blow so hastily?"

"O, here is the bishop of Hereford,
And no pardon we shall have."
"Cut off his head, master," said Little John,
"And throw him into his grave."

"O pardon, O pardon," said the bishop,
"O pardon I thee pray;
For if I had known it had been you,
I'd have gone some other way."

"No pardon, no pardon," said bold Robin Hood,
"No pardon I thee owe;
Therefore make haste, and come along with me,
For to merry Barnsdale you shall go."

Then Robin he took the bishop by the hand,
And led him to merry Barnsdale;
He made him to stay and sup with him that night,
And to drink wine, beer, and ale.

"Call in a reckoning," said the bishop,
"For methinks it grows wondrous high."
"Lend me your purse, master," said Little John,
"And I'll tell you by-and-bye."

Then Little John took the bishop's cloak,
And spread it upon the ground,
And out of the bishop's portmantua
He told three hundred pound.

"Here's money enough, master," said Little John,
"And a comely sight 'tis to see;
It makes me in charity with the bishop,
Though he heartily loveth not me."

Robin Hood took the bishop by the hand,
And he caused the music to play;
And he made the bishop to dance in his boots,
And glad he could so get away.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 38: "A. D. 1194, King Richard I. being a hunting in the forrest of Sherwood, did chase a hart out of the forrest of Sherwood into Barnesdale in Yorkshire, and because he could not there recover him, he made proclamation at Tickill in Yorkshire, and at divers other places, that no person should kill, hurt or chase the said hart, but that he might safely retorne into forrest againe; which hart was afterwards called, 'A hart royall proclaimed.'"--MANWOOD'S _Forest Laws_.]

[Footnote 39: Itinerary, v. 101.]

ROBIN HOOD'S DEATH AND BURIAL.

ROBIN HOOD having for a long period, maintained a sort of independent sovereignty, and set kings, judges, and magistrates at defiance, a proclamation was published offering a considerable reward for bringing him either dead or alive; which, however, appears to have been productive of no greater success than former attempts for that purpose.[40] At length, the infirmities of old age increasing, and desirous to be relieved, in a fit of sickness, by being bled, he applied for that purpose to the prioress of Kirklees nunnery, in the parish of Dewsbury, W. R. of Yorkshire.[41] From the Sloane MS. we learn "that being dystempered with could and age, he had great payne in his lymmes, his bloud being corrupted, therefore, to be eased of his payne by letting bloud, he repayred to the priores of Kyrkesly, which some say was his aunt, a woman very skylful in physique and surgery; who, perceyving him to be Robyn Hood, and waying howe fel an enimy he was to religious persons, toke revenge of him for her owne howse and all others by letting him bleed to death." This event happened in the 31st of Henry III. (1247), and, if the date assigned to his birth be correct, about the 87th year of his age. He was interred under some trees, at a short distance from the precinct of the nunnery, a stone being placed over his grave.[42]

The following inscription over his remains, preserved by Dr. Gale, dean of York, Thoresby says, was "scarce legible," and Dr. Whitaker seems to think spurious:--

HEAR UNDERNEAD DIS LAITL STEAN
LAIZ ROBERT EARL OF HUNTINGTUN
NEAR ARCIR VER AZ HIE SA GEUD
AN PIPL KAULD IM ROBIN HEUD
SICK UTLAWZ AZ HI AN IZ MEN
VIL ENGLAND NIVR SI AGEN.
OBIIT 24 KAL. DEKEMBRIS 1247.[43]

A statue of this renowned free-booter, large as life, leaning on his unbent bow, with a quiver of arrows, and a sword by his side, formerly stood on one side the entrance into Kirklees Hall.

This ballad is preserved solely in the editions of "Robin Hood's Garland," printed at York, where it is made to conclude with some foolish lines, (adopted from the London copy of a ballad, called "Robin Hood and Valiant Knight,") in order to introduce the epitaph.

When Robin Hood and Little John,
_Down a down, a down, a down,_
Went o'er yon bank of broom,
Said Robin Hood to Little John,
"We have shot for many a pound:
_Hey down, a down, a down_.

"But I am not able to shoot one shot more,
My arrows will not flee;
But I have a cousin lives down below,
Please God, she will bleed me."

Now Robin is to fair Kirkley gone,
As fast as he can win;
But before he came there, as we do hear,
He was taken very ill.

And when that he came to fair Kirkley hall,
He knock'd all at the ring,
But none was so ready as his cousin herself
For to let bold Robin in.

"Will you please to sit down, cousin Robin," she said
"And drink some beer with me?"
"No, I will neither eat nor drink,
Till I am blooded by thee."

"Well, I have a room, cousin Robin," she said,
"Which you did never see,
And if you please to walk therein,
You blooded by me shall be."

She took him by the lily-white hand,
And led him to a private room,
And there she blooded bold Robin Hood,
Whilst one drop of blood would run.

She blooded him in the vein of the arm,
And lock'd him up in the room;
There did he bleed all the live-long day,
Untill the next day at noon.

He then bethought him of a casement door,
Thinking for to be gone,
He was so weak he could not leap,
Nor he could not get down.

He then bethought him of his bugle-horn,
Which hung low down to his knee,
He set his horn unto his mouth,
And blew out weak blasts three.

Then Little John, when hearing him,
As he sat under the tree,
"I fear my master is near dead,
He blows so wearily."

Then Little John to fair Kirkley is gone,
As fast as he can dree;
But when he came to Kirkley hall,
He broke locks two or three;

Untill he came bold Robin to,
Then he fell on his knee:
"A boon, a boon," cries Little John,
"Master, I beg of thee."

"What is that boon," quoth Robin Hood,
"Little John, thou begs of me?"
"It is to burn fair Kirkley hall,
And all their nunnery."

"Now nay, now nay," quoth Robin Hood,
"That boon I'll not grant thee;
I never hurt[44] woman in all my life,
Nor man in woman's company.

"I never hurt fair maid in all my time,
Nor at my end shall it be;
But give me my bent bow in my hand,
And a broad arrow I'll let flee;
And where this arrow is taken up,
There shall my grave digg'd be.

"Lay me a green sod under my head,
And another at my feet;
And lay my bent bow by my side,
Which was my music sweet;
And make my grave of gravel and green,
Which is most right and meet.

"Let me have length and breadth enough,
With a green sod under my head;
That they may say, when I am dead,
Here lies bold Robin Hood."

These words they readily promis'd him,
Which did bold Robin please:
And there they buried bold Robin Hood,
Near to the fair Kirkleys.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 40: Grafton, 85. Harl. MS. 1233. 367.]

[Footnote 41: Letter from Jo. Saville, to W. Camden, _Illus. Viro Epis_. 1691.]

[Footnote 42: Collectanea, i. 54. Fuller's Worthies of Eng. 330.]

[Footnote 43: In a work entitled, "Sepulchrorum inscriptiones: or a curious collection of 900 of the most remarkable epitaphs," Westminster, 1727; this epitaph is not inelegantly paraphrased:--

"Here, underneath this little stone,
Through death's assaults, now lieth one,
Known by the name of Robin Hood,
Who was a thief, and archer good;
Full thirteen (thirty?) years, and something more,
He robb'd the rich to feed the poor;
Therefore, his grave bedew with tears.
And offer for his soul your prayers."

In the "Travels of Tom Thumb over England and Wales," is another version, though inferior:--

"Here, under this memorial stone,
Lies Robert earl of Huntingdon;
As he, no archer e'er was good,
And people call'd him Robin Hood;
Such outlaws as his men and he
Again may England never see."

See the anecdote respecting the removal of Robin Hood's tombstone in Gent's "Ancient and Modern History of the Famous City of York," 1730, 12mo. p. 234.]

[Footnote 44: Burnt. This stanza is omitted in one edition.]

HISTORY OF SIR JOHN ELAND, OF

ELAND, AND HIS ANTAGONISTS.

The origin of this quarrel is not very clear, neither is it certain the time when this ballad was written. It is said that one Exley had killed the brother's son of sir John Eland, and that a relative, sir Robert Beaumont, screened him from the resentment of sir John, also that the affair was, in some measure, made up, sir John Eland having accepted of a compensation in lieu of justice being done upon the murderer, but that he afterwards violated the agreement; whereupon sir John got together a considerable number of armed men, and in one night, in the month of May, put to death the said sir Robert, and two old gentlemen, his near relatives, Hugh de Quarmby and John de Lockwood. This is so far confirmed by the Hopkinson MSS. in the possession of Mrs. Richardson Currer of Eshton hall, wherein it says, "that with sir Robert Beaumont were slain his brother William, and ... Exley, who had killed the brother's son of sir John Eland." This manner of executing private revenge, according to Brady, in his "History of the Reign of King Stephen," was brought from Normandy to England:--"If any earl, or great man, found himself aggrieved by another, they frequently got together all their men at arms, or knights that held of them, their other tenants and poor dependants, and as much assistance from their friends and confederates as they could, and burnt one another's castles and houses, &c."

No worldly wight can here attain
Always to have their will,
But now in grief, sometimes in pain,
Their course they must fulfil;

For when men live in worldly wealth,
Full few can have that grace,
Long in the same to keep themselves
Contented with their place.

The squire must needs become a knight,
The knight a lord would be,
Thus shall you see no worldly wight,
Content with his degree.

For pride it is that pricks the heart
And moves men to mischief,
All kind of pity set apart
Withouten grudge or grief.

Where pride doth reign within the heart,
And wickedness in will,
The fear of God quite set apart,
Their fruits must needs be ill.

Some cannot suffer for to see
And know their neighbors thrive,
Like to themselves in good degree,
But rather seek their lives.

And some must be possess'd alone,
And such would have no peer,
Like to themselves they would have none
Dwell nigh them any where.

With such like faults was foul infect
One sir John Eland, knight;[45]
His doings make it much suspect
Therein he took delight.

Some time there dwelt at Crossland hall,
A kind and courteous knight,
It was well known that he withal
Sir Robert Beaumont[46] hight.

At Eland sir John Eland dwelt
Within the manor hall,
The town his own, the parish held
Most part upon him all.

The market town was Eland then,
The patent hath been seen,
Under king Edward's seal certain,
The first Edward I ween.[47]

But now I blush to sing for dread,
Knowing mine own country,
So basely stor'd with Cain his seed
There springing plenteously.

Alack, such store of witty men
As now are in these days,
Were both unborn, and gotten then,
To stay such wicked ways.

Some say that Eland sheriff was
By Beaumont disobey'd,
Which might him make for that trespass
With him the worse appaid.

He raised the country round about,
His friends, and tenants all,
And for his purpose picked out
Stout, sturdy men and tall.

To Quarmby hall they came by night,
And there the lord they slew,
At that time Hugh of Quarmby hight,
Before the country knew.

To Lockwood then the self-same night,
They came, and there they slew
Lockwood of Lockwood, that wily wight,
That stirr'd the strife anew.[48]

When they had slain thus suddenly
Sir Robert Beaumont's aid,
To Crossland they came craftily,
Of nought they were afraid.

The hall was water'd well about,
No wight might enter in;
Till that the bridge was well laid out,
They durst not venture in.[49]

Before the house they could invade.
In ambush they did lodge;
And watch'd a wench, with wily trade,
Till she let down the bridge.

A siege they set, assault they made,
Heinously to the hall;
The knight's chamber they did invade,
And took the knight withal.

And this is for most certainly
That slain before he was,
He fought against them manfully,
Unarmed as he was.

His servants rose, and still withstood,
And struck with might and main;
In his defence they shed their blood,
But all this was in vain.

The lady cry'd, and shriek'd withal,
When as from her they led
Her dearest knight into the hall,
And there cut off his head.

But all in vain, the more pity,
For pity had no place,
But craft, mischief, and cruelty,
These men did most embrace.

They had a guide that guided them
Which in their hearts did dwell,
The which to this that moved them,
The very devil in hell.

See here in what uncertainty
This wretched world is led;
At night in his prosperity,
At morning slain, and dead.

I wis a woeful house there was,
The lord lay slain, and dead,
Their foes then eat before their face
Their meat, ale, wine, and bread.

Two boys sir Robert Beaumont had
There left alive unslain;
Sir John of Eland he then bade
To eat with him certain.

The one did eat with him truly,
The younger it was, I think;
Adam, the eldest, sturdily,
Would neither eat nor drink.[50]

"See how this boy," said Eland, "see
His father's death can take;
If any be, it will be he,
That will revengement make.

"But if that he wax wild anon
I shall him soon foresee;
And cut them off by one and one,
As time shall then serve me."

_The first fray here now have you heard,
The second doth ensue;
And how much mischief afterward
Upon these murders grew._

_And how the mischief he contriv'd
His wicked heart within,
Light on himself shall be described,
Mark now, for I begin:--_

The same morning two messengers
Were sent to Lancashire,
To Mr. Townley and Brereton,
Their helps for to require.

Unto the mount beneath Marsden
Now were they come with speed,
But hearing that their friend was slain,
They turn'd again indeed.

When Eland with his wilful ire
Thus Beaumont's blood had shed,
Into the coasts of Lancashire,
The lady Beaumont fled.

With her she took her children all
At Brereton to remain;
Some time also at Townley hall
They sojourned certain.

Brereton and Townley friends they were
To her, and of her blood;
And presently it did appear
They sought to do her good.

They kept the boys 'till they increas'd
In person and in age,
Their father's death to have redrest
Still kindled their courage.

Lacy and Lockwood were with them
Brought up at Brereton green,
And Quarmby, kinsman unto them,
At home durst not be seen.

The feats of fence they practiced
To wield their weapons well,
Till fifteen years were finish'd,
And then it so befel,

Lockwood, the eldest of them all,
Said, "Friends, I think it good,
We went into our country all,
To venge our fathers' blood.

"If Eland have this for well done
He will slay me indeed,
Best were it then we slew him soon,
And cut off Cain his seed.

"I saw my father Lockwood slain,
And Quarmby in the night,
And last of all they slew certain,
Sir Robert Beaumont, knight.

"O Lord, this was a cruel deed,
Who could their hands refrain;
For to pluck out such wicked weed,
Tho' it were to their pain!"

To this the rest then all agreed,
Devising day by day,
Of this their purpose how to speed,
What was the readiest way.

Two men that time from Quarmby came,
Dawson and Haigh, indeed,
Who then consulted of the same,
Of this how to proceed.

These countrymen, of course only,
Said Eland kept alway,
The Turn at Brighouse certainly,
And you shall know the day.

To Cromwelbottom you must come,
In the wood there to wait;
So you may have them all and some,
And take them in a strait.

The day was set, the Turn was kept,
At Brighouse by sir John;
Full little wist he was beset
Then at his coming home.

Dawson and Haigh had play'd their parts,
And brought from Brereton green,
Young gentlemen with hardy hearts,
As well were known and seen.

Adam of Beaumont there was laid,
And Lacy with him also,
And Lockwood, who was nought afraid
To fight against his foe.

In Cromwelbottom woods they lay,
A number with them mo,
Armed they were in good array,
A spy they had also.

To spy the time when Eland came,
From Brighouse Turn that day,
Who play'd his part, and show'd the same
To them there as they lay.

Beneath Brookfoot a hill there is
To Brighouse in the way,
Forth came they to the top of this,
There prying for their prey.

From the lane end then Eland came
A spied these gentlemen,
Sore wonder'd he who they could be,
And val'd his bonnet then.

"Thy court'sy 'vails thee not, sir knight,
Thou slew my father dear,
Some time sir Robert Beaumont hight,
And slain thou shalt be here."

Said Adam Beaumont, with the rest,
"Thou hast our fathers slain,
Whose deaths we mind shall be redrest,
Of thee, and thine certain."

To strike at him still did they strive,
But Eland still withstood,
With might and main, to save his life,
But still they shed his blood.

They cut him from his company,
Belike at the lane end;
And there they slew him certainly,
And thus he made his end.

Mark here the end of cruelty,
Such fine hath falshood, lo!
Such end forsooth himself had he,
As he brought others to.

But Beaumont yet was much to blame,
Tho' here he play'd the man,
The part he play'd not in the same
Of a right Christian.

A pure conscience could never find
An heart to do this deed;
Tho' he this day should be assign'd
His own heart's blood to bleed.

But kind, in these young gentlemen,
Crept where it could not go,
And in such sort enforced them
Their fathers' bane to slo.

_The second fray now here you have,
The third now shall you hear;
Of your kindness no more I crave,
But only to give ear._

When sir John Eland thus was slain,
Indeed the story tells,
Both Beaumont and his fellows then
Fled in Furness fells.

O cruel Mars, why wert thou nought
Contented yet with this;
To shed more blood, but still thou sought,
For such thy nature is.

Their young conscience corrupt by thee,
Indeed could never stay,
'Till into extreme misery
They ran the readiest way.

For Cain his seed on ev'ry side,
With wicked hearts disgrac'd;
Which to show mercy hath denied,
Must needs be now displac'd.

In Furness fells long time they were,
Boasting of their misdeed,
In more mischief contriving there,
How yet they might proceed.

They had their spies in this country,
Nigh Eland, who then dwell'd
Where sir John Eland liv'd truly,
And there his household held.

Mo gentlemen then were not there
In Eland parish dwell'd,
Save Savile half part of the year
His house at Rushworth held.

He kept himself from such debate,
Removing thence withal,
Twice in the year by Savile gate
Unto the Bothom hall.

Adam of Beaumont then truly,
Lacy and Lockwood eke,
And Quarmby came to their country
Their purpose for to seek.

To Cromwelbottom wood[51] they came,
There kept them secretly,
By fond deceit there did they frame,
Their crafty cruelty.

This is the end in sooth to say,
On Palm Sun. e'en at night,
To Eland miln they took the way,
About the mirke midnight.

Into the miln house there they brake,
And kept them secretly,
By subtilty thus did they seek,
The young knight for to slay.

The morning came, the milner sent
His wife for corn in haste,
These gentlemen in hands her hent,
And bound her hard and fast.

The milner sware she should repent,
She tarried there so long,
A good cudgel in hand he hent
To chastise her with wrong.

With haste into the miln came he,
And meant with her to strive,
But they bound him immediately,
And laid him by his wife.

The young knight dreamt, the selfsame night
With foes he was bested,
That fiercely fettled them to fight
Against him in his bed.

He told his lady soon of this,
But as a thing most vain,
She weigh'd it light, and said, "I wis
We must to church certain,

"And serve God there this present day."
The knight then made him bown.
And by the miln house lay the way
That leadeth to the town.

The drought had made the water small,
The stakes appeared dry;
The knight, his wife, and servants all,
Came down the dam thereby.

When Adam Beaumont this beheld,
Forth of the miln came he,
His bow in hand with him he held,
And shot at him sharply.

He hit the knight on the breast plate,
Whereat the shot did glide;
William of Lockwood wroth thereat,
Said, "Cousin, you shoot wide."

Himself did shoot and hit the knight,
Who nought was hurt with this,
Whereat the knight had great delight,
And said to them, "I wis

"If that my father had been clad
With such armour certain,
Your wicked hands escaped he had,
And had not so been slain.

"O Eland town, alack," said he,
"If thou but knew of this,
These foes of mine full fast would flee,
And of their purpose miss.

"By stealth to work must needs they go,
For it had been too much,
The town knowing, the lord to slo
For them, and twenty such."

William of Lockwood was adread
The town should rise indeed;
He shot the knight quite thro' the head,
And slew him then with speed.

His son and heir[52] was wounded there,
But yet not dead at all;
Into the house convey'd he were,
And died in Eland hall.

A full sister forsooth had he,
An half brother[53] also;
The full sister his heir must be,
The half brother not so.

The full sister his heir she was,
And Savile[54] wed the same;
Thus lord of Eland Savile was,
And since in Savile name.

Lo here the end of all mischief,
From Eland, Eland's name
Dispatch'd it was to their great grief,
Well worthy of the same.

What time these men such frays did frame
Deeds have I read, and heard
That Eland came to Savile's name
In Edward's days the third.

But as for Beaumont, and the rest,
They were undone utterly;
Thus simple virtue is the best,
And chief felicity.

By Whittle-lane end they took their flight,
And to the old Earth-gate;
Then took the wood, as well they might,
And spy'd a privy gate.

Themselves conveying craftily
To Annely-wood that way,
The town of Eland manfully
Pursued them that day.

The lord's servants throughout the town,
Had cry'd with might and main,[55]
"Up, gentle yeomen, make you bown,
This day your lord is slain."

Whittle, and Smyth, and Rimmington,
Bury with many mo;
As brimme as boars they made them bown,
Their lord's enemies to slo.

And, to be short, the people rose
Throughout the town about;
Then fiercely following on their foes.
With hue and cry, and shout.

All sorts of men show'd their good wills,
Some bows and shafts did bear;
Some brought forth clubs, and rusty bills,
That saw no sun that year.

To church now as the parish came,
They join'd them with the town,
Like hardy men to stand all sam,
To fight now were they bown.

Beaumont and Quarmby saw all this,
And Lockwood where they stood;
They fettled them to fence, I wis,
And shot as they were wood,

Till all their shafts were gone and spent,
Of force then must they flee;
They had dispatch'd all their intent,
And lost no victory.

The hardiest man of them that was,
Was Quarmby, this is true;
For he would never turn his face
Till Eland men him slew.

Lockwood, he bare him on his back,
And hid him in Annely-wood;[56]
To whom his purse he did betake,
Of gold and silver good.

"Here take you this to you," said he,
"And to my cousins here;
And in your mirth remember me,
When you do make good cheer.

"If that my foes should this possess,
It were a grief to me;
My friends welfare is my riches,
And chief felicity.

"Give place with speed, and fare you well,
Christ, shield you from mischief;
If that it otherwise befel,
It would be my great grief."

Their foes so fiercely follow'd on,
It was no biding there;
Lockwood, with speed, he went anon,
To his friends where they were.

With haste then towards Huddersfield,
They held their ready way;
Adam of Beaumont the way he held,
To Crossland hall that day.[57]

When Eland men returned home,
Through Annely-wood that day;
There found they Quarmby laid alone,
Scarce dead, so some men say.

And then they slew him out of hand,
Dispatch'd him of his pain;
The late death of their lord Eland
Inforced them certain.

"Learn, Savile, here, I you beseech,
That in prosperity
You be not proud, but mild and meek,
And dwell in charity;

"For by such means your elders came
To knightly dignity;
Where Eland then forsook the same,
And came to misery.

"Mark here the breach of charity,
How wretchedly it ends;
Mark here how much felicity
On charity depends.

"A speech it is to ev'ry wight
Please God who may or can;
It wins always with great delight,
The heart of every man.

"Where charity withdraws the heart
From sorrow and sighs deep;
Right heavy makes it many a heart,
And many an eye to weep.

"You gentlemen, love one another,
Love well the yeomanry;
Count ev'ry Christian man his brother,
And dwell in charity.

"Then shall it come to pass truly,
That all men you shall love;
And after death then shall you be
In heav'n with God above.

"To whom always, of ev'ry wight,
Throughout all years and days;
In heav'n and earth, both day and night,
Be honour, laud, and praise."

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 45: Son of sir Thomas de Eland, of Eland hall in the parish of Halifax, knight of the shire for Yorkshire, 14 Edward III. and sheriff of Yorkshire, 15 Edward III., in which year it is supposed the quarrel took place. Sir John married, 1st, Alice, daughter of sir Robert Lathom, (who bore, or, on a chief daucette, az. three plates,) by whom he had issue sir John Eland, who had a son, name unknown, and Isabel. Thomas, Henry, Margery, Isabel, and Dionysia; 2ndly, Ann, daughter of ---- Rygate, by whom he had no issue; and 3rdly, Olive ---- by whom he had Robert, who married Alice, daughter of Fitz-Eustace, and James, who died young. In the quire of the church of Eland, in a window, are painted the arms of Eland, viz. Gules, two barrulets between eight martlets argent, three, two and three.]

[Footnote 46: Son of William de Beaumout, of Whitley, in the parish of Kirkeaton. He married, _circa_ 20 Edward II., Grace, daughter and heiress of sir Edward Crossland, of Crossland, co. Yorkshire, knight, by whom he had Adam, named hereafter Thomas, who died _s. p._, and John, who married Alice, daughter of John Soothill, esq., by whom he had Richard, from whom descended a race who lived in splendour to the reign of Charles I.]

[Footnote 47: The market appears to have been granted by charter, 10 Edward II. (_Harl MS. No. 797._), and for some time held a rivalship with Halifax; but for many ages the market has been discontinued.]

[Footnote 48: Lockwood appears to have been a quarrelsome person, for in the court rolls at Wakefield, 35 Edward I., John de Lockwood, of Lockwood, was presented and afterwards found guilty of having forcibly ejected one Matthew de Linthwaite from his free tenement, and when the earl's grave and bailiff came to take possession thereof, he made an attempt, with others unknown, to have slain them, so that they barely escaped with their lives.]