The Children's Garland from the Best Poets Part 8

x.x.xI

_ROBIN HOOD AND ALLIN A DALE_

Come listen to me, you gallants so free, All you that love mirth for to hear, And I will tell you of a bold outlaw That lived in Nottinghamshire.

As Robin Hood in the forest stood, All under the greenwood tree, There he was aware of a brave young man As fine as fine might be.

The youngster was cloth'd in scarlet red, In scarlet fine and gay; And he did frisk it over the plain, And chanted a roundelay.

As Robin Hood next morning stood Amongst the leaves so gay, There did he espy the same young man, Come drooping along the way.

The scarlet he wore the day before It was clean cast away; And at every step he fetch'd a sigh, 'Alack and a well-a-day!'

Then stepp'd forth brave Little John, And Midge, the miller's son, Which made the young man bend his bow, When as he saw them come.

'Stand off, stand off!' the young man said, 'What is your will with me?'

'You must come before our master straight, Under yon greenwood tree.'

And when he came bold Robin before, Robin asked him courteously, 'O, hast thou any money to spare For my merry men and me?'

'I have no money,' the young man said, 'But five shillings and a ring; And that I have kept this seven long years, To have it at my wedding.

'Yesterday I should have married a maid, But she soon from me was tane, And chosen to be an old knight's delight, Whereby my poor heart is slain.'

'What is thy name?' then said Robin Hood, 'Come tell me without any fail:'

'By the faith of my body,' then said the young man, 'My name it is Allin a Dale.'

'What wilt thou give me?' said Robin Hood, 'In ready gold or fee, To help thee to thy true love again, And deliver her unto thee?'

'I have no money,' then quoth the young man, 'No ready gold nor fee, But I will swear upon a book Thy true servant for to be.'

'How many miles is it to thy true love?

Come tell me without guile:'

'By the faith of my body,' then said the young man, 'It is but five little mile.'

Then Robin he hasted over the plain, He did neither stint nor lin, Until he came unto the church, Where Allin should keep his wedding.

'What hast thou here?' the bishop then said, 'I prithee now tell unto me:'

'I am a bold harper,' quoth Robin Hood, 'And the best in the north country.'

'O welcome, O welcome,' the bishop he said.

'That music best pleaseth me;'

'You shall have no music,' quoth Robin Hood, 'Till the bride and the bridegroom I see.'

With that came in a wealthy knight, Which was both grave and old, And after him a finikin la.s.s, Did shine like the glistering gold.

'This is not a fit match,' quoth bold Robin Hood, 'That you do seem to make here, For since we are come into the church, The bride shall choose her own dear.'

Then Robin Hood put his horn to his mouth, And blew blasts two or three; When four-and-twenty bowmen bold Came leaping over the lea.

And when they came into the churchyard, Marching all on a row, The very first man was Allin a Dale, To give bold Robin his bow.

'This is thy true love,' Robin he said, 'Young Allin as I hear say; And you shall be married at this same time, Before we depart away.'

'That shall not be,' the bishop he said, 'For thy word shall not stand; They shall be three times asked in the church, As the law is of our land.'

Robin Hood pulled off the bishop's coat, And put it upon Little John; 'By the faith of my body,' then Robin said, 'This cloth doth make thee a man.'

When Little John went into the quire, The people began to laugh; He asked them seven times in the church, Lest three times should not be enough.

'Who gives me this maid?' said Little John; Quoth Robin Hood, 'That do I, And he that takes her from Allin a Dale, Full dearly he shall her buy.'

And thus having end of this merry wedding, The bride looked like a queen; And so they returned to the merry greenwood, Amongst the leaves so green.

_Old Ballad_

x.x.xII

_VIOLETS_

Under the green hedges after the snow, There do the dear little violets grow, Hiding their modest and beautiful heads Under the hawthorn in soft mossy beds.

Sweet as the roses, and blue as the sky, Down there do the dear little violets lie; Hiding their heads where they scarce may be seen, By the leaves you may know where the violet hath been.

_J. Moultrie_

x.x.xIII

_THE PALMER_

'Open the door, some pity to show!

Keen blows the northern wind!

The glen is white with the drifted snow, And the path is hard to find.

'No outlaw seeks your castle gate, From chasing the king's deer, Though even an outlaw's wretched state Might claim compa.s.sion here.

'A weary Palmer worn and weak, I wander for my sin; O, open, for Our Lady's sake!

A pilgrim's blessing win!