The Geste of Duke Jocelyn Part 24

"What lads, are ye there forsooth? Is't Myles I see with l.u.s.ty Watt and John and Hal o' the Quarterstaff? G.o.d den t' ye, friends, and merry hunting to one and all, for by oak and ash and thorn here stand I to live with thee, aye, good lads, and to die with ye here in the good greenwood--"

But now and all at once from that grim and silent company a mighty shout went up:

"'Tis Robin--'tis Robin, 'tis bold Robin-a-Green! 'Tis our Robin himself come back to us!"

And fearful no longer, they hasted to him and clasped him in brawny arms, hugging him mightily and making great rejoicing over him.

FYTTE 9

That tells almost as fully as it should, The joys of living in the good greenwood.

Deep-hidden in the trackless wild the outlaws had made them a haven of refuge, a camp remote and well sequestered. Here were mossy, fern-clad rocks that soared aloft, and here green lawns where ran a blithesome brook; it was indeed a very pleasant place shut in by mighty trees. Within this leafy boskage stood huts of wattle, cunningly wrought; beneath the steep were many caves carpeted with dried fern and fragrant mosses, while everywhere, above and around, the trees spread mighty boughs, through which the sun darted golden beams be-dappling the sward, and in whose leafy mysteries the birds made joyous carolling.

And here beneath bending willows arched over this merry brook, one sun-bright morning riotous with song of birds, sat Jocelyn with Robin a-sprawl beside him.

"O brother," says Robin, "O brother, 't is a fair place the greenwood, a fair, sweet place to live--aye, or to die in methinks, this good greenwood, whereof I have made a song--hark 'ee!"

"Oho, it is a right good thing When trees do bud and flowers do spring All in the wood, the fair, green wood, To hear the birds so blithely sing, Adown, adown, hey derry down, All in the good, green wood.

"Who cometh here leaves grief behind, Here broken man hath welcome kind, All in the wood, the fair, green wood.

The hopeless here new hope may find, Adown, adown, hey derry down, All in the kind, green wood.

"Ho, friend, 'tis pleasant life we lead, No laws have we, no laws we need Here i' the good, green wood.

For every man's a man indeed, Adown, adown, hey derry down, Here i' the good, green wood.

"All travellers that come this way Must something in fair tribute pay Unto the wood, the fair, green wood.

Or here in bonds is like to stay, Adown, adown, hey derry down, Lost in the good, green wood.

"Full many a lord, in boastful pride, This tribute, scornful, hath denied Unto the wood, the fair, green wood.

And thereupon hath sudden died, Adown, adown, hey derry down, All in the fair, green wood.

"And when our time shall come to die Methinks we here may softly lie Deep in the fair, green wood.

With birds to sing us lullaby, Adown, adown, hey derry down, All in the good, green wood."

"So there it is, brother--and life and death in a nutsh.e.l.l, as 'twere. Now, wherefore wilt not join us and turn outlaw, good Fool?"

"For that I am a fool belike, Robin. Howbeit, I'm better Fool than outlaw."

"Say, rather, greater fool, Fool, for foresters' life is better than life o' folly, and payeth better to boot, what with booty--ha! Moreover, I do love thee, since, Fool, though fool, art wise in counsel and valiant beyond thought--so 'tis I would not lose thee. Stay, therefore, and live my comrade and brother, equal with me in all things. How say'st thou?"

"Why, Robin, I say this: True friendship is a goodly thing and a rare in this world, and, therefore, to be treasured; 'tis thing no man may buy or seek, since itself is seeker and cometh of itself; 'tis a prop--a staff in stony ways, a shield 'gainst foes, a light i' the dark. So do I love friendship, Robin, and thou'rt my friend, yet must leave thee, though friendship shall abide."

Quoth ROBIN: How abide an we be parted?

"In heart and mind and memory, Robin. Moreover, though I go, yet will I return anon, an life be mine."

"And wherefore go ye, brother?"

"First to seek my comrade."

"Thy comrade--ha! I mind him, a fierce great fellow with hawk's beak and a fighting eye. And whither trend ye?"

"To Ca.n.a.lise."

"Art crazed, brother? 'Tis there death waiteth thee!"

"Yet must I go, Robin, since there my heart waiteth me."

"A maid, brother?"

"A maid, Robin."

"Heigho! So wilt thou go, come joy, come pain, come life or death, since a maid is made to make man saint or devil, some days glad and some days sad, but ever and always a fool. And thou art Fool by profession, and, being lover professed and confessed, art doubly a fool; and since, good Folly, love's but folly and thou, a Fool, art deep in folly, so is thy state most melancholy."

"And dost think love so great folly, Robin?" said a soft voice, and, looking round, they beheld the lovely, dark-tressed Melissa, who viewed them bright-eyed and pouted red mouth, frowning a little.

"Aye, verily, lady," laughed Robin, as she sank on the gra.s.s beside them.

"Forsooth, 'tis a madness fond. For see, now, a man being in love is out of all else."

"As how, Sir Outlaw?"

"Marry, on this wise--when man's in love he mopeth apart and is ill company, so is he out o' friends; he hangeth humble head abashed, so is he out o' countenance; he uttereth frequent, windy, sighful suspirations, so is he out o' breath; he lavisheth lucre on his love, so is he out o'

pocket; he forsweareth food, despiseth drink, scorneth sleep, so is he out o' health--in fine, he is out of all things, so is he out of himself; therefore he is mad, and so may go hang himself!"

MELISSA: And hast thou loved, Robin?

ROBIN: Ever and always, and none but Robin!

MELISSA: And none more worthy, Robin?

ROBIN: And none more, as I am worthy Robin.

MELISSA: Lovest thou not Love, Robin?

ROBIN: Love, love not I.

MELISSA: Then Love canst thou know not.

ROBIN: Then if I love Love for Love's sake, must Love then love me, therefore?

MELISSA: If thy love for Love be true love, so shall Love love thee true.

ROBIN: Then if Love should love me for my sake, then would I love Love for Love's sake; but since Love ne'er hath sought me for my sake, ne'er will I seek Love for Love's sake for my sake, since Love, though plaguy sweet, is a sweet plague, I judge and, so judging, will by my judgment stand.