117. Robin Hood and the Monk. Quiller-Couch, Arthur, ed. 1910. The Oxford Book of Ballads

Verse > Anthologies > Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. > The Oxford Book of Ballads

CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (1863–1944). The Oxford Book of Ballads. 1910.

117. Robin Hood and the Monk

IN somer, when the shawes be sheyne,

And leves be large and long,

Hit is full mery in feyre foreste

To here the foulys song:

To se the dere draw to the dale,

And leve the hillès hee,

And shadow hem in the levës grene,

Under the grene-wode tre.

III

Hit befel on Whitsontide,

Erly in a May mornyng,

The Son up feyre can shyne,

And the briddis mery can syng.

‘This is a mery mornyng,’ seid Litull John,

‘Be Hym that dyed on tre;

A more mery man then I am one

Lyves not in Cristiantë.

‘Pluk up thi hert, my dere mayster,’

Litull John can sey,

‘And thynk hit is a full fayre tyme

In a mornyng of May.’

‘Ye, on thyng greves me,’ seid Robyn,

‘And does my hert mych woo;

That I may not no solem day

To mas nor matyns goo.

VII

‘Hit is a fourtnet and more,’ seid he,

‘Syn I my Savyour see;

To day wil I to Notyngham,’ seid Robyn,

‘With the myght of mylde Marye.’

VIII

Than spake Moche, the mylner son,—

Ever more wel hym betyde!

‘Take twelve of thi wyght yemèn,

Well weppynd, be thi side.

Such on wolde thi selfe slon,

That twelve dar not abyde.’

Of all my mery men,’ seid Robyn,

‘Be my feith I wil non have,

But Litull John shall beyre my bow,

Til that me list to drawe.’

‘Thou shall beyre thin own,’ seid Litull John,

‘Maister, and I wyl beyre myne,

And we well shete a peny,’ seid Litull John,

‘Under the grene-wode lyne.’

‘I wil not shete a peny,’ seyd Robyn Hode,

‘In feith, Litull John, with the,

But ever for on as thou shetis,’ seide Robyn,

‘In feith I holde the thre.’

XII

Thus shet thei forth, these yemen two,

Bothe at buske and brome,

Til Litull John wan of his maister

Five shillings to hose and shone.

XIII

A ferly strife fel them betwene,

As they went bi the wey;

Litull John seid he had won five shillings,

And Robyn Hode seid schortly nay.

XIV

With that Robyn Hode lyed Litull John,

And smote hym with his hande;

Litull John waxèd wroth therwith,

And pull’d out his bright bronde.

‘Were thou not my maister,’ seid Litull John,

‘Thou shuldis be hit ful sore;

Get the a man wher thou wilt,

For thou getis me no more.’

XVI

Then Robyn goes to Notyngham,

Hym selfe mornyng allone,

And Litull John to mery Scherwode,

The pathes he knew ilkone.

XVII

Whan Robyn came to Notyngham,

Sertenly withouten layn,

He prayed to God and myld Mary

To bryng hym out save agayn.

XVIII

He gos in to Seynt Mary chirch,

And kneled down before the rode;

Alle that e’er were the church within

Beheld wel Robyn Hode.

XIX

Beside hym stod a gret-hedid munke,

I pray to God woo he be!

Fful sone he knew gode Robyn,

As sone as he hym se.

Out at the durre he ran,

Fful sone and anon;

Alle the yatis of Notyngham

He made to be sparred euerychon.

XXI

‘Rise up,’ he seid, ‘thou prowde Schereff,

Buske the and make the bowne;

I have spyèd the Kynggis felon,

Fforsothe he is in this town.

XXII

‘I have spyèd the false felon,

As he stondis at his masse;

Hit is long of the,’ seide the munke

‘And ever he fro us passe.

XXIII

‘This traytur name is Robyn Hode,

Under the grene-wode lynde;

He robbyt me onys of a hundred pound,

Hit shalle never out of my mynde.’

XXIV

Up then rose this prowde Shereff,

And radly made hym yare;

Many was the moder son

To the kyrk with hym can fare.

XXV

In at the durres thei throly thrast,

With stavès ful gode wone;

100

‘Alas, alas!’ seid Robyn Hode,

‘Now mysse I Litull John.’

XXVI

But Robyn toke out a two-hond sworde,

That hangit down be his kne;

Ther as the Schereff and his men stode thyckust,

105

Thethurwarde wolde he.

XXVII

Thryes thorowout them he ran then,

Forsothe as I yow sey,

And woundyt mony a moder son,

And twelve he slew that day.

110

XXVIII

His sworde upon the Schereff hed

Sertanly he brake in two;

‘The smyth that the made,’ seid Robyn,

‘I pray to God wyrke hym woo!

XXIX

‘Ffor now am I weppynlesse,’ seid Robyn,

115

‘Alasse! agayn my wylle;

But if I may fle these traytors fro,

I wot thei wil me kyll.’

XXX

Robyn into the churchë ran,

Throout hem everilkon …

120

[Then word is gone to his yemen

In grene-wode wher they wone.]

XXXI

Sum fel in swonyng as thei were dede,

And lay stil as any stone;

Non of theym were in her mynde

125

But only Litull John.

XXXII

‘Let be your rule,’ seid Litull John,

‘Ffor his luf that dyed on tre;

Ye that shulde be dughty men,

Het is gret shame to se.

130

XXXIII

‘Oure maister has bene hard bystode

And yet scapyd away;

Pluk up your hertis, and leve this mone,

And harkyn what I shal say.

XXXIV

‘He has seruyd Oure Lady many a day,

135

And yet wil, securly;

Therfor I trust in hir specialy

No wyckud deth shal he dye.

XXXV

‘Therfor be glad,’ seid Litull John,

‘And let this mournyng be;

140

And I shal be the munkis gyde,

With the myght of mylde Mary.’

XXXVI

[Than spake Moche, the mylner son,]

‘We will go but we two.’—

‘An I mete hym,’ seid Litull John,

145

[I trust to wyrke hym woo.]

XXXVII

‘Loke that ye kepe wel owre tristil-tre,

Under the levys smale,

And spare non of this venyson,

That gose in thys vale.’

150

XXXVIII

Fforthe then went these yemen two,

Litull John and Moche on fere,

And lokid on Moch’ emys hows,—

The hye-way lay full nere.

XXXIX

Litull John stode at a wyndow in the mornyng,

155

And lokid forth at a stage;

He was war wher the munke came ridyng,

And with hym a litul page.

‘Be my feith,’ seid Litull John to Moch,

‘I can the tel tithyngus gode;

160

I se wher the monke cumys rydyng,

I know hym be his wyde hode.’

XLI

They went in to the way, these yemen bothe,

As curtes men and hende;

Thei spyrred tithyngus at the munke,

165

As they hade bene his frende.

XLII

‘Ffro whens come ye?’ seid Litull John,

‘Tel us tithyngus, I yow pray,

Off a false owtlay, callid Robyn Hode,

Was takyn yisterday.

170

XLIII

‘He robbyt me and my felowes bothe

Of twenti marke in serten;

If that false owtlay be takyn,

Ffor sothe we wolde be fayn.’

XLIV

‘So did he me,’ seid the munke,

175

‘Of a hundred pound and more;

I layde furst hande hym apon,

Ye may thonke me therfore.’

XLV

‘I pray God thanke you,’ seid Litull John,

‘And we wil when we may;

180

We wil go with you, with your leve,

And bryng yow on your way.

XLVI

‘Ffor Robyn Hode hase many a wilde felow,

I tell you in certen;

If thei wist ye rode this way,

185

In feith ye shulde be slayn.’

XLVII

As thei went talking be the way,

The munke and Litull John,

John toke the munkis horse be the hede,

Fful sone and anon.

190

XLVIII

John toke the munkis horse be the hed,

Fforsothe as I yow say;

So did Much the litull page,

Ffor he shulde not scape away.

XLIX

Be the golett of the hode

195

John pulled the munkè down;

John was nothyng of hym agast,

He lete hym falle on his crown.

Litull John was sore agrevyd,

And drew owt his swerde in hye;

200

This munkè saw he shulde be ded,

Lowd mercy can he crye.

‘He was my maister,’ seid Litull John,

‘That thou hase browght in bale;

Shalle thou never cum at our Kyng,

205

Ffor to telle hym tale.’

LII

John smote of the munkis hed,

No longer wolde he dwell;

So did Moch the litull page,

Ffor ferd lest he wolde tell.

210

LIII

Ther thei beryèd hem bothe,

In nouther mosse nor lyng,

And Litull John and Much in fere

Bare the letturs to oure Kyng.

LIV

[Whan John came unto oure Kyng]

215

He knelid down on his kne:

God yow save, my legè lorde,

Jhesus yow save and se!

‘God yow save, my legè Kyng!’

To speke John was full bolde;

220

He gaf hym the letturs in his hond,

The Kyng did hit unfold.

LVI

The Kyng red the letturs anon,

And seid, So mot I the,

Ther was never yoman in mery Inglond

225

I longut so sore to se.

LVII

‘Wher is the munke that these shuld have brought?’

Ourè Kyng can say:

‘Be my trouth,’ seid Litull John,

‘He dyed after the way.’

230

LVIII

The Kyng gaf Moch and Litull John

Twenti pound in sertan,

And made theim yemen of the crown,

And bade theim go agayn.

LIX

He gaf John the seel in hand,

235

The Sheref for to bere,

To bryng Robyn hym to,

And no man do hym dere.

John toke his leve at oure Kyng,

The sothe as I yow say;

240

The next way to Notyngham

To take, he yede the way.

LXI

Whan John came to Notyngham

The yatis were sparred ychon;

John callid up the porter,

245

He answerid sone anon.

LXII

‘What is the cause,’ seid Litull John,

‘Thou sparris the yates so fast?’—

‘Because of Robyn Hode,’ seid the porter,

‘In depe prison is cast.

250

LXIII

‘John and Moch and Wyll Scathlok,

Ffor sothe as I yow say,

Thei slew oure men upon our wallis,

And sawten us every day.’

LXIV

Litull John spyrred after the Schereff,

255

And sone he hym fonde;

He oppyned the Kyngus prive seell,

And gaf hym in his honde.

LXV

Whan the Scheref saw the Kyngus seell,

He did of his hode anon:

260

‘Wher is the munke that bare the letturs?’

He seid to Litull John.

LXVI

‘He is so fayn of hym,’ seid Litull John,

‘Fforsothe as I yow say,

He has made hym abot of Westmynster,

265

A lorde of that abbay.’

LXVII

The Scheref made John godè chere,

And gaf hym wyne of the best;

At nyght thei went to her beddè,

And every man to his rest.

270

LXVIII

When the Scheref was on slepe,

Dronken of wyne and ale,

Litull John and Moch forsothe

Toke the way unto the jale.

LXIX

Litull John callid up the jayler,

275

And bade hym rise anon;

He seyd Robyn Hode had brokyn prison,

And out of hit was gon.

LXX

The porter rose anon sertan,

As sone as he herd John calle;

280

Litull John was redy with a swerd,

And bare hym to the walle.

LXXI

‘Now wil I be porter,’ seid Litull John,

‘And take the keyes in honde:’

He toke the way to Robyn Hode,

285

And sone he hym unbonde.

LXXII

He gaf hym a gode swerd in his hond,

His hed therwith for to kepe,

And ther as the walle was lowyst

Anon down can thei lepe.

290

LXXIII

Be that the cok began to crow,

The day began to spryng,

The Scheref fond the jaylier ded;

The comyn bell made he ryng.

LXXIV

He made a crye thoroout al the town,

295

Wheder he be yoman or knave,

That cowthè bryng hym Robyn Hode,

His warison he shuld have.

LXXV

‘Ffor I dar never,’ said the Scheref,

‘Cum before oure Kyng;

300

Ffor if I do, I wot serten

Ffor sothe he wil me heng.’

LXXVI

The Scheref made to seke Notyngham,

Bothe be strete and stye,

And Robyn was in mery Scherwode,

305

As light as lef on lynde.

LXXVII

Then bespake gode Litull John,

To Robyn Hode can he say,

‘I have done the a gode turne for an evyll,

Quyte the whan thou may.

310

LXXVIII

‘I have done the a gode turne,’ seid Litull John,

‘Fforsothe as I yow say;

I have brought the under grene-wode lyne;

Ffare wel, and have gode day.’

LXXIX

‘Nay, be my trouth,’ seid Robyn Hode,

315

‘So shall hit never be;

I make the maister,’ seid Robyn Hode,

‘Off alle my men and me.’

LXXX

‘Nay, be my trouth,’ seid Litull John,

‘So shalle hit never be;

320

But lat me be a felow,’ seid Litull John,

‘No noder kepe I be.’

LXXXI

Thus John gate Robyn Hode out of prison,

Sertan withoutyn layn;

Whan his men saw hym hol and sounde,

325

Fforsothe they were full fayne.

LXXXII

They fillèd in wyne, and made hem glad,

Under the levys smale,

And yete pastès of venyson,

That gode was with ale.

330

LXXXIII

Than wordè came to oure Kyng

How Robyn Hode was gon,

And how the Scheref of Notyngham

Durst never loke hym upon.

LXXXIV

Then bespake oure cumly Kyng,

335

In an angur hye:

‘Litull John hase begyled the Schereff,

In faith so hase he me.

LXXXV

‘Litull John has begyled us bothe

And that full wel I se;

340

Or ellis the Schereff of Notyngham

Hye hongut shulde he be.

LXXXVI

‘I made hem yemen of the crowne,

And gaf hem fee with my hond;

I gaf hem grith,’ seid oure Kyng,

345

‘Thorowout all mery Inglond.

LXXXVII

‘I gaf theym grith,’ then seid oure Kyng;

‘I say, so mot I the,

Fforsothe soch a yeman as he is on

In all Inglond ar not thre.

350

LXXXVIII

‘He is trew to his maister,’ seid our Kyng;

‘I sey, be swete Seynt John,

He lovys better Robyn Hode

Then he dose us ychon.

LXXXIX

‘Robyn Hode is ever bond to hym,

355

Bothe in strete and stalle;

Speke no more of this mater,’ seid oure Kyng,

‘But John has begyled us alle.’

Thus endys the talkyng of the munke

And Robyn Hode i-wysse;

360

God, that is ever a crowned kyng,

Bryng us all to his blisse!

GLOSS: shawes] woods. sheyne] bright, beautiful. wyght yemèn] sturdy yeomen. slon] slay. shete a peny] shoot for a penny. lyne] linden. holde] wager. buske] bush. ferly] wondrous, strange. lyed] gave the lie to. ilkone] each one. layn] concealment. yatis] gates. sparred] barred. Buske] get ready. bowne] bound, ready. long of] along of, i.e. thy fault. radly] quickly. yare] ready. throly thrast] pressed stubbornly. gode wone] good number, plenty. But if] unless. wone] dwelt. rule] ‘taking on,’ lamenting. dughty] doughty. mone] moan. gyde] be the guide = take charge of. tristil-tre] trysting-tree, rendezvous. smale] small. on fere] in company. emys hows] uncle’s house. at a stage] on an upper floor. tithyngus] tidings. hende] civil. spyrred] spiered, inquired. golett] gullet, throat. of hym agast] alarmed about him. hye] haste. bale] harm. ferd] fear. mot I the] I thrive. after] behind on. dere] injury. next] nighest. yede] went. ychon] each one. sawten] assault. did of his hode] took off his hat. her] their. comyn bell] town bell. warison] reward. stye] path, alley. kepe I be] care I to be. yete] ate. grith] charter of peace.

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