WHEN Shaws beene sheene, and shradds full fayre,
And leaves both large and longe,

Itt is merrye walking in the fayre forrèst
To heare the small birdes songe.

The woodweele sang, and wold not cease,
Sitting upon the spraye,

Soe lowde, he wakened Robin Hood,
In the greenwood where he lay.

"Now by my faye," sayd jollye Robin,
"A sweaven I had this night;

I dreamt me of tow wighty yemen,
That fast with me can fight.

Methought they did mee beate and binde,
And tooke my bow mee froe;
If I be Robin alive in this lande,
Ile be wroken on them towe."

"Sweavens are swift, Master," quoth John,
"As the wind that blowes ore a hill;
For if itt be never so loude this night,
To-morrow itt may be still."

"Buske yee, bowne yee, my merry men all,
And John shall goe with mee,

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For Ile goe seeke yond wight yeomen,
In greenwood where the bee."

Then the cast on their gownes of grene,
And tooke theyr bowes each one;

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And they away to the greene forrèst
A shooting forth are gone ;

Untill they came to the merry greenwood,
Where they had gladdest bee,

There were the ware of a wight yeomàn,
His body leaned to a tree.

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Ver. 1. for "shaws" the MS. has "shales" and "shradds" should perhaps be "Swards": i.e. the surface of the ground: viz." when the fields are in their beauty": or perhaps "shades".

A sword and a dagger he wore by his side,
Of manye a man the bane;

And he was clad in his capull hyde
Topp and tayll and mayne.

"Stand you still, master," quoth Litle John,
"Under this tree so grene,

And I will go to yond wight yeoman
To know what he doth meane."

"Ah! John, by me thou settest noe store,

And that I farley finde :

How offt send I my men beffore,

And tarry my selfe behinde ?

It is no cunning a knave to ken,

And a man but heare him speake;

And itt were not for bursting of my bowe,
John, I thy head wold breake."

As often wordes they breeden bale,
So they parted Robin and John;

And John is gone to Barnesdale :
The gates he knoweth eche one.

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But when he came to Barnesdale,

Great heavinesse there hee hadd, For he found tow of his owne fellòwes Were slaine both in a slade.

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And Scarlette he was flyinge a-foote
Fast over stocke and stone,

For the sheriffe with seven score men

Fast after him is gone.

"One shoote now, I will shoote," quoth John, "With Christ his might and mayne;

Ile make yond fellow that flyes soe fast,

To stopp he shall be fayne."

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* i. e. vays, passes, paths, ridings. "Gate" is a common word the North for "Way."

ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE.

Then John bent up his long bende-bowe,
And fetteled him to shoote :

The bow was made of a tender boughe,
And fell downe to his foote.

"Woe worth, woe worth thee, wicked wood,

That ere thou grew on a tree;

For now this day thou art my bale,

My boote when thou shold bee."

His shoote it was but loosely shott,

Yet flewe not the arrowe in vaine,
For itt mett one of the sherriffes men,
Good William a Trent was slaine.

It had bene better of William a Trent
To have bene abed with sorrowe,

Than to be that day in the green wood slade

To meet with Little Johns arrowe.

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But as it is said, when men be mett
Fyve can doe more than three,
The sheriffe hath taken little John,
And bound him fast to a tree.

"Thou shalt be drawen by dale and downe,
And hanged hye on a hill."

"But thou mayst fayle of thy purpose," quoth "If itt be Christ his will."

Let us leave talking of Litle John,

And thinke of Robin Hood,

How he is gone to the wight yeoman,

Where under the leaves he stood.

[John,

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"Good morrowe, good fellowe," sayd Robin so fayre, "Good morrowe, good fellow," quoth he: "Methinkes by this bowe thou beares in thy hande 95 A good archere thou sholdst bee."

"I am wilfull of my waye," quo' the yeman, "And of my morning tyde."

"Ile lead thee through the wood," sayd Robin ; "Good fellow, Ile be thy guide."

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"I seeke an outlàwe," the straunger sayd,
"Men call him Robin Hood;

Rather Ild meet with that proud outlàwe
Than fortye pound soe good."

"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,

Wee may chance to meet with Robin Hood
Here att some unsett steven."

They cutt them downe two summer shroggs,
That grew both under a breere,

And sett them threescore rood in twaine
To shoote the prickes y-fere.

"Leade on, good fellowe," quoth Robin Hood,

"Leade on, I doe 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 froe:

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The yeoman he was an archer good,
But he cold never shoote soe.

The second shoote had the wightye yeman,
He shote within the garlànde:

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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 then Robin Hoode.

Now tell me thy name, good fellowe," sayd he,
"Under the leaves of lyne."

"Nay, by my faith," quoth bolde Robin, "Till thou have told me thine."

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

"My dwelling is in this wood," sayes Robin,
By thee I set right nought:

I am Robin Hood of Barnèsdale,

Whom thou so long hast sought.".

He that had neither beene kithe nor kin,
Might have seene a full fayre sight,
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 summers day:

Yett neither Robin Hood nor sir Guy
Them fettled to flye away.

Robin was reachles on a roote,
And stumbled at that tyde;

And Guy was quicke and nimble with-all,
And hitt him ore the left side.

"Ah! deere Lady," sayd Robin Hood,
That art both mother and may,'

I think it was never mans destinye
To dye before his day.'

"thou

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The common epithet for a sword or other offensive weapon, in the old metrical romances, is Brown. As "brown brand," or brown sword: brown bill," &c. and sometimes even "bright brown sword." Chaucer applies the word rustie in the same sense; thus he describes the reve:

"And by his side he bare a rusty blade."

And even thus the God Mars:

Prol. ver. 620.

“And in his hand he had a rousty sword."

Test. of Cressid. 188.

See Warton's

Spenser has sometimes used the same epithet. Observ. vol. ii. p. 62. It should seem, from this particularity, that our ancestors did not pique themselves upon keeping their weapons bright: perhaps they deemed it more honourable to carry them stained with the blood of their enemies.