Journeys Through Bookland Volume Iii Part 45

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan; Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran; There was racing and chasing on Cann.o.bie Lee, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.

So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?

Let us see how many things we can find out about this poem. The first thing we think of is that it tells a story--just one story, without any outside, disconnected incidents. Then we notice that the style is very simple, that the meter is easy and swinging, and that the last line of every stanza is almost like a refrain. There is one other thing: the author does not show in the poem at all; that is, the poem is strictly a story, without comments by the author or any expressed moral.

This poem of Lochinvar belongs to a cla.s.s of poems called ballads, all of which possess some, at least, of the characteristics which we have found in Lochinvar. All ballads do not have refrains, but all ballads do contain narratives in simple, often rude style. Most ballad stanzas have only four lines, though Scott uses six for this.

The history of ballad poetry is very interesting. In all nations, it is believed, it has been the earliest form of poetry, and it is thought that the great heroic poems, such as the Cid of the Spaniards and the Nibelungenlied of the Germans, grew out of ballads. These early ballads were not written down; they were sung, or recited, and in thus being handed down by word of mouth, they underwent many changes, so that in time it could very well be said that a popular ballad had no one author--it belonged to all the people.

ROBIN HOOD

INTRODUCTION

As to whether or not there ever was a Robin Hood, there is much uncertainty. Grave men have written grave books, some proving and some disproving his existence, but the question has never been settled.

Some believe that he was a real outlaw; some believe that the stories about him were originally told about some elf of the woods, and that only gradually did he come to be looked upon as a man. However that may be, he is a very real character in literature. By no means all the writings about him are the grave books spoken of above. Stories, poems, dramas, operas have been written with him as the central figure; and these are so interesting that we take them for their own sakes, and trouble ourselves little about the ident.i.ty of the hero. He seems real to us, and that is all we need to know.

The mythical Robin Hood was an outlaw, the most gentlemanly and pious and liberal of outlaws, and he dwelt with his trained yeomen in Sherwood forest, Nottinghamshire, or in Barnsdale in Yorkshire. Here they lived a free and active life, subsisting on the King's deer which they shot in the woods, and on provisions which they took from travelers. Robin Hood never himself molested or allowed any of his followers to molest any poor travelers; indeed, if he was thoroughly convinced that any of those whom he met were really needy, he helped them gladly and generously. But from the rich knights and clergy he took without scruple. Chief of his followers were Little John, Scathlockor Scalock, Will Stutely, Friar Tuck, and Much, the Miller's son.

The ballads which are given here relate to the first meeting of Robin Hood with Little John and with Scathlock, and give also two of his other characteristic adventures. Both the date and the authorship of the old ballads are unknown.

According to the legends, Robin Hood lived to be over eighty years old and then met his death in a very treacherous manner. Feeling ill, he went to a prioress, who was a relative of his, to be bled, and the prioress, induced by Robin Hood's enemies, allowed him to bleed to death.

ROBIN HOOD AND LITTLE JOHN

When Robin Hood was about twenty years old, With a hey down, down, and a down;*

He happen'd to meet with Little John, A jolly brisk blade, right fit for the trade, For he was a l.u.s.ty young man.

*[Footnote: This line means nothing, it is simply a refrain. The old ballads were usually sung or chanted, and many of those which are now printed without refrain lines undoubtedly had them originally.]

Tho' he was called Little, his limbs they were large And his stature was seven foot high; Wherever he came, they quak'd at his name, For soon he would make them to fly.

How they came acquainted, I'll tell you in brief, If you would but listen awhile; For this very jest, among all the rest, I think it may cause you to smile.

For Robin Hood said to his jolly bowmen,*

"Pray tarry you here in this grove; And see that you all observe well my call, While through the forest I rove.

*[Footnote: You will see that to make the meter right it is necessary to accent the word bowmen on the last syllable. These changes of accent often occur in ballads, and help to add to the quaintness and peculiarity of the old poems.]

"We have had no sport for these fourteen long days, Therefore now abroad will I go.

Now should I be beat, and cannot retreat, My horn I will presently blow."

Then did he shake hands with his merry men all, And bid them at present good bye; Then, as near the brook his journey he took, A stranger he chanc'd to espy.

They happen'd to meet on a long narrow bridge, And neither of them would give way; Quoth bold Robin Hood, and st.u.r.dily stood, "I'll show you right Nottingham play."

With that from his quiver an arrow he drew, A broad arrow with a goose-wing.

The stranger replied, "I'll liquor thy hide, If thou offer to touch the string."

Quoth bold Robin Hood, "Thou dost prate like an a.s.s, For were I to bend my bow, I could send a dart quite thro' thy proud heart, Before thou couldst strike me one blow."

"Thou talk'st like a coward," the stranger reply'd; "Well arm'd with a long bow you stand, To shoot at my breast, while I, I protest, Have nought but a staff in my hand,"

"The name of a coward," quoth Robin, "I scorn, Therefore my long bow I'll lay by; And now for thy sake, a staff will I take, The truth of thy manhood to try."

Then Robin Hood stept to a thicket of trees, And chose him a staff of brown oak; Now this being done, away he did run To the stranger, and merrily spoke:

"Lo! see my staff is l.u.s.ty and tough, Now here on this bridge we will play; Whoever falls in, the other shall win The battle, and so we'll away."

"With all my whole heart," the stranger reply'd, "I scorn in the least to give out."

This said, they fell to't without more dispute, And their staffs they did flourish about.

At first Robin he gave the stranger a bang, So hard that he made his bones ring; The stranger he said, "This must be repaid, I'll give you as good as you bring.

"So long as I am able to handle a staff, To die in your debt, friend, I scorn."

Then to it each goes, and followed their blows, As if they'd been threshing of corn.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TUMBLED HIM INTO THE BROOK]

The stranger gave Robin a crack on the crown, Which caused the blood to appear; Then Robin, enrag'd, more fiercely engag'd, And follow'd his blows more severe.

So thick and so fast did he lay it on him, With a pa.s.sionate fury and ire; At every stroke he made him to smoke, As if he had been all on fire.

O then into fury the stranger he grew, And gave him a d.a.m.nable look, And with it a blow that laid him full low, And tumbled him into the brook.

"I prithee, good fellow, O where art thou now?"

The stranger, in laughter, he cry'd.

Quoth bold Robin Hood, "Good faith, in the flood And floating along with the tide.

"I needs must acknowledge thou art a brave soul, With thee I'll no longer contend; For needs must I say, thou hast got the day, Our battle shall be at an end."

Then unto the bank he did presently wade, And pull'd himself out by a thorn; Which done, at the last, he blew a loud blast Straightway on his fine bugle-horn.

The echo of which through the valleys did fly, At which his stout bowmen appear'd, All clothed in green, most gay to be seen, So up to their master they steer'd.

"O, what's the matter?" quoth William Stutely: "Good master, you are wet to the skin."

"No matter," quoth he, "the lad which you see In fighting hath tumbled me in."

"He shall not go scot-free," the others reply'd; So strait they were seizing him there, To duck him likewise; but Robin Hood cries, "He is a stout fellow; forbear.

"There's no one shall wrong thee, friend; be not afraid; These bowmen upon me do wait; There's threescore and nine; if thou wilt be mine, Thou shalt have my livery strait,

"And other accoutrements fitting also: Speak up, jolly blade, never fear.

I'll teach you also the use of the bow, To shoot at the fat fallow deer."

"O, here is my hand," the stranger reply'd.