Collected Poems Volume II Part 40

ROBIN

[_Embracing her._]

Oh, you seemed Ten thousand miles away. This is not moonlight, And I am not Endymion. Could I dream My Dian would come wandering through the fern Before the sunset? Even that rose your face You m.u.f.fled in its own green leaves.

MARIAN

But you, Were hidden in the heart of Sherwood, Robin, Hidden behind a million mighty boughs, And yet I found you.

ROBIN

Ay, the young moon stole In pity down to her poor shepherd boy; But he could never climb the fleecy clouds Up to her throne, never could print one kiss On her immortal lips. He lay asleep Among the poppies and the crags of Latmos, And she came down to him, his queen stole down.

MARIAN

Oh, Robin, first a rose and then a moon, A rose that breaks at a breath and falls to your feet, The fickle moon--Oh, hide me from the world; For there they say love goes by the same law!

Let me be outlawed then. I cannot change.

Sweetheart, sweetheart, Prince John will hunt me down!

Prince John--Queen Elinor will hunt me down!

ROBIN

Queen Elinor! Nay, but tell me what this means?

How came you here?

MARIAN

The Queen--she came last night, Made it an odious kind of praise to me That he, not three months wedded to his bride, Should--pah!

And then she said five hundred men Were watching round the borders of the wood; But she herself would take me safely through them, Said that I should be safer here with Robin, She had your name so pat--and I gave way.

[_Enter QUEEN ELINOR behind. She conceals herself to listen._]

ROBIN

Marian, she might have trapped you to Prince John.

MARIAN

No; no; I think she wanted me to guide her Here to your hiding place. She wished to see you Herself, unknown to John, I know not why.

It was my only way. Her skilful tongue Quite won my father over, made him think, Poor father, clinging to his lands again, He yet might save them. And so, without ado (It will be greatly to the joy of Much, Your funny little man), I bade my maid Jenny, go pack her small belongings up This morning, and to follow with Friar Tuck And Widow Scarlet. They'll be here anon.

ROBIN

Where did you leave the Queen?

MARIAN

Robin, she tried To kill me! We were deep within the wood And she began to tell me a wild tale, Saying that I reminded her of days When Robin was her page, and how you came To Court, a breath of April in her life, And how you worshipped her, and how she grew To love you. But she saw you loved me best (So would she mix her gall and lies with honey), So she would let you go. And then she tried To turn my heart against you, bade me think Of all the perils of your outlawry, Then flamed with anger when she found my heart Steadfast; and when I told her we drew nigh The cave, she bade me wait and let her come First, here, to speak with you. Some devil's trick Gleamed in her smile, the way some women have Of smiling with their lips, wreathing the skin In pleasant ripples, laughing with their teeth, While the cold eyes watch, cruel as a snake's That fascinates a bird. I'd not obey her.

She whipped a dagger out. Had it not been For Shadow-of-a-Leaf, who dogged us all the way, Poor faithful fool, and leapt out at her hand, She would have killed me. Then she darted away Like a wild thing into the woods, trying to find Your hiding place most like.

ROBIN

O Marian, why, Why did you trust her? Listen, who comes here?

[_Enter FRIAR TUCK, JENNY and WIDOW SCARLET._]

Ah, Friar Tuck!

MARIAN

Good Jenny!

ROBIN

And Widow Scarlet!

FRIAR TUCK

O children, children, this is thirsty weather!

The heads I have cracked, the ribs I have thwacked, the bones I have bashed with my good quarter-staff, to bring These bits of womankind through Sherwood Forest.

ROBIN

What, was there scuffling, friar?

FRIAR TUCK

Some two or three Pounced on us, ha! ha! ha!

JENNY

A score at least, Mistress, most unchaste ruffians.

FRIAR TUCK

They've gone home, Well chastened by the Church. This pastoral staff Mine oaken _Pax Vobisc.u.m_, sent 'em home To think about their sins, with watering eyes.

You never saw a bunch of such blue faces, b.u.mpy and juicy as a bunch of grapes Bruised in a Baccha.n.a.lian orgy, dripping The reddest wine a man could wish to see.

ROBIN

I picture it--those big brown hands of thine Grape-gathering at their throttles, ha! ha! ha!

Come, Widow Scarlet, come, look not so sad.

WIDOW SCARLET

O master, master, they have named the day For killing of my boy.

ROBIN