119
ROBIN HOOD AND THE MONK
ROBIN HOOD AND THE MONK
[_]
a. MS. of about 1450: Cambridge University Library,
Ff. 5. 48, fol. 128 b. b. One leaf of a MS. of the
same age, containing stanzas 69-72, 77-80: Bagford
Ballads, vol. i, art. 6, British Museum.
1
In somer, when þe shawes be sheyne,
And leves be large and long,
Hit is full mery in feyre foreste
To here þe foulys song:
2
To se þe dere draw to þe dale,
And leve þe hilles hee,
And shadow hem in þe levës grene,
Vnder the grene-wode tre.
3
Hit befel on Whitsontide,
Erly in a May mornyng,
The son vp feyre can shyne,
And the briddis mery can syng.
4
‘This is a mery mornyng,’ seid Litull John,
‘Be hym þat dyed on tre;
A more mery man þen I am one
Lyves not in Cristiantë.
5
‘Pluk vp þi hert, my dere mayster,’
Litull John can sey,
‘And thynk hit is a full fayre tyme
In a mornyng of May.’
6
‘Ȝe, on thyng greves me,’ seid Robyn,
‘And does my hert mych woo;
Þat I may not no solem day
To mas nor matyns goo.
7
‘Hit is a fourtnet and more,’ seid he,
‘Syn I my sauyour see;
To day wil I to Notyngham,’ seid Robyn,
‘With þe myght of mylde Marye.’
8
Than spake Moche, þe mylner sun,
Euer more wel hym betyde!
‘Take twelue of þi wyght ȝemen,
Well weppynd, be þi side.
Such on wolde þi selfe slon,
Þat twelue dar not abyde.’
9
‘Of all my mery men,’ seid Robyn,
‘Be my feith I wil non haue,
But Litull John shall beyre my bow,
Til þat me list to drawe.’
10
‘Þou shall beyre þin own,’ seid Litull Jon,
‘Maister, and I wyl beyre myne,
And we well shete a peny,’ seid Litull Jon,
‘Vnder þe grene-wode lyne.’
11
‘I wil not shete a peny,’ seyd Robyn Hode,
‘In feith, Litull John, with the,
But euer for on as þou shetis,’ seide Robyn,
‘In feith I holde þe thre.’
12
Thus shet þei forth, þese ȝemen too,
Bothe at buske and brome,
Til Litull John wan of his maister
Fiue shillings to hose and shone.
13
A ferly strife fel þem betwene,
As they went bi the wey;
Litull John seid he had won fiue shillings,
And Robyn Hode seid schortly nay.
14
With þat Robyn Hode lyed Litul Jon,
And smote hym with his hande;
Litul Jon waxed wroth þerwith,
And pulled out his bright bronde.
15
‘Were þou not my maister,’ seid Litull John,
‘Þou shuldis by hit ful sore;
Get þe a man wher þou w[ilt],
For þou getis me no more.’
16
Þen Robyn goes to Notyngham,
Hym selfe mornyng allone,
And Litull John to mery Scherwode,
The pathes he knew ilkone.
17
Whan Robyn came to Notyngham,
Sertenly withouten layn,
He prayed to God and myld Mary
To bryng hym out saue agayn.
18
He gos in to Seynt Mary chirch,
And kneled down before the rode;
Alle þat euer were þe church within
Beheld wel Robyn Hode.
19
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.
20
Out at þe durre he ran,
Fful sone and anon;
Alle þe ȝatis of Notyngham
He made to be sparred euerychon.
21
‘Rise vp,’ he seid, ‘þou prowde schereff,
Buske þe and make þe bowne;
I haue spyed þe kynggis felon,
Ffor sothe he is in þis town.
22
‘I haue spyed þe false felon,
As he stondis at his masse;
Hit is long of þe,’ seide þe munke,
‘And euer he fro vs passe.
23
‘Þis traytur name is Robyn Hode,
Vnder þe grene-wode lynde;
He robbyt me onys of a hundred pound,
Hit shalle neuer out of my mynde.’
24
Vp þen rose þis prowde shereff,
And radly made hym ȝare;
Many was þe moder son
To þe kyrk with hym can fare.
25
In at þe durres þei throly thrast,
With staves ful gode wone;
‘Alas, alas!’ seid Robyn Hode,
‘Now mysse I Litull John.’
26
But Robyn toke out a too-hond sworde,
Þat hangit down be his kne;
Þer as þe schereff and his men stode thyckust,
Thedurwarde wolde he.
27
Thryes thorowout þem he ran þen,
For soþe as I yow sey,
And woundyt mony a moder son,
And twelue he slew þat day.
28
His sworde vpon þe schireff hed
Sertanly he brake in too;
‘Þe smyth þat þe made,’ seid Robyn,
‘I pray to God wyrke hym woo!
29
‘Ffor now am I weppynlesse,’ seid Robyn,
‘Alasse! agayn my wylle;
But if I may fle þese traytors fro,
I wot þei wil me kyll.’
30
Robyn in to the churchë ran,
Throout hem euerilkon,
[OMITTED]
31
Sum fel in swonyng as þei were dede,
And lay stil as any stone;
Non of theym were in her mynde
But only Litull Jon.
32
‘Let be your rule,’ seid Litull Jon,
‘Ffor his luf þat dyed on tre,
Ȝe þat shulde be duȝty men;
Het is gret shame to se.
33
‘Oure maister has bene hard bystode
And ȝet scapyd away;
Pluk vp your hertis, and leve þis mone,
And harkyn what I shal say.
34
‘He has seruyd Oure Lady many a day,
And ȝet wil, securly;
Þerfor I trust in hir specialy
No wyckud deth shal he dye.
35
‘Þerfor be glad,’ seid Litul John,
‘And let þis mournyng be;
And I shal be þe munkis gyde,
With þe myght of mylde Mary.
36
[OMITTED]
‘We will go but we too;
And I mete hym,’ seid Litul John,
[OMITTED]
37
‘Loke þat ȝe kepe wel owre tristil-tre,
Vnder þe levys smale,
And spare non of this venyson,
Þat gose in thys vale.’
38
Fforþe þen went these ȝemen too,
Litul John and Moche on fere,
And lokid on Moch emys hows,
Þe hye way lay full nere.
39
Litul John stode at a wyndow in þe mornyng,
And lokid forþ at a stage;
He was war wher þe munke came ridyng,
And with hym a litul page.
40
‘Be my feith,’ seid Litul John to Moch,
‘I can þe tel tithyngus gode;
I se wher þe munke cumys rydyng,
I know hym be his wyde hode.’
41
They went in to the way, þese ȝemen boþe,
As curtes men and hende;
Þei spyrred tithyngus at þe munke,
As they hade bene his frende.
42
‘Ffro whens come ȝe?’ seid Litull Jon,
‘Tel vs tithyngus, I yow pray,
Off a false owtlay, [callid Robyn Hode,]
Was takyn ȝisterday.
43
‘He robbyt me and my felowes boþe
Of twenti marke in serten;
If þat false owtlay be takyn,
Ffor soþe we wolde be fayn.’
44
‘So did he me,’ seid þe munke,
‘Of a hundred pound and more;
I layde furst hande hym apon,
Ȝe may thonke me þerfore.’
45
‘I pray God thanke you,’ seid Litull John,
‘And we wil when we may;
We wil go with you, with your leve,
And bryng yow on your way.
46
‘Ffor Robyn Hode hase many a wilde felow,
I tell you in certen;
If þei wist ȝe rode þis way,
In feith ȝe shulde be slayn.’
47
As þei went talking be þe way,
The munke and Litull John,
John toke þe munkis horse be þe hede,
Fful sone and anon.
48
Johne toke þe munkis horse be þe hed,
Ffor soþe as I yow say;
So did Much þe litull page,
Ffor he shulde not scape away.
49
Be þe golett of þe hode
John pulled þe munke down;
John was nothyng of hym agast,
He lete hym falle on his crown.
50
Litull John was so[re] agrevyd,
And drew owt his swerde in hye;
This munke saw he shulde be ded,
Lowd mercy can he crye.
51
‘He was my maister,’ seid Litull John,
‘Þat þou hase browȝt in bale;
Shalle þou neuer cum at our kyng,
Ffor to telle hym tale.’
52
John smote of þe munkis hed,
No longer wolde he dwell;
So did Moch þe litull page,
Ffor ferd lest he wolde tell.
53
Þer þei beryed hem boþe,
In nouþer mosse nor lyng,
And Litull John and Much infere
Bare þe letturs to oure kyng.
54
[OMITTED]
He knelid down vpon his kne:
‘God ȝow saue, my lege lorde,
Ihesus yow saue and se!
55
‘God yow saue, my lege kyng!’
To speke John was full bolde;
He gaf hym þe letturs in his hond,
The kyng did hit vnfold.
56
Þe kyng red þe letturs anon,
And seid, So mot I the,
Þer was neuer ȝoman in mery Inglond
I longut so sore to se.
57
‘Wher is þe munke þat þese shuld haue brouȝt?’
Oure kyng can say:
‘Be my trouth,’ seid Litull John,
‘He dyed after þe way.’
58
Þe kyng gaf Moch and Litul Jon
Twenti pound in sertan,
And made þeim ȝemen of þe crown,
And bade þeim go agayn.
59
He gaf John þe seel in hand,
The sheref for to bere,
To bryng Robyn hym to,
And no man do hym dere.
60
John toke his leve at oure kyng,
Þe sothe as I yow say;
Þe next way to Notyngham
To take, he ȝede þe way.
61
Whan John came to Notyngham
The ȝatis were sparred ychon;
John callid vp þe porter,
He answerid sone anon.
62
‘What is þe cause,’ seid Litul Jon,
‘Þou sparris þe ȝates so fast?’
‘Because of Robyn Hode,’ seid [þe] porter,
‘In depe prison is cast.
63
‘John and Moch and Wyll Scathlok,
Ffor sothe as I yow say,
Þei slew oure men vpon our wallis,
And sawten vs euery day.’
64
Litull John spyrred after þe schereff,
And sone he hym fonde;
He oppyned þe kyngus priue seell,
And gaf hym in his honde.
65
Whan þe scheref saw þe kyngus seell,
He did of his hode anon:
‘Wher is þe munke þat bare þe letturs?’
He seid to Litull John.
66
‘He is so fayn of hym,’ seid Litul John,
‘Ffor soþe as I yow say,
He has made hym abot of Westmynster,
A lorde of þat abbay.’
67
The scheref made John gode chere,
And gaf hym wyne of the best;
At nyȝt þei went to her bedde,
And euery man to his rest.
68
When þe scheref was on slepe,
Dronken of wyne and ale,
Litul John and Moch for soþe
Toke þe way vnto þe jale.
69
Litul John callid vp þe jayler,
And bade hym rise anon;
He seyd Robyn Hode had brokyn prison,
And out of hit was gon.
70
The porter rose anon sertan,
As sone as he herd John calle;
Litul John was redy with a swerd,
And bare hym to þe walle.
71
‘Now wil I be porter,’ seid Litul John,
‘And take þe keyes in honde:’
He toke þe way to Robyn Hode,
And sone he hym vnbonde.
72
He gaf hym a gode swerd in his hond,
His hed [ther] with for to kepe,
And ther as þe walle was lowyst
Anon down can þei lepe.
73
Be þat þe cok began to crow,
The day began to spryng;
The scheref fond þe jaylier ded,
The comyn bell made he ryng.
74
He made a crye thoroout al þe tow[n],
Wheder he be ȝoman or knave,
Þat cowþe bryng hym Robyn Hode,
His warison he shuld haue.
75
‘Ffor I dar neuer,’ said þe scheref,
‘Cum before oure kyng;
Ffor if I do, I wot serten
Ffor soþe he wil me heng.’
76
The scheref made to seke Notyngham,
Bothe be strete and stye,
And Robyn was in mery Scherwode,
As liȝt as lef on lynde.
77
Then bespake gode Litull John,
To Robyn Hode can he say,
I haue done þe a gode turne for an euyll,
Quyte þe whan þou may.
78
‘I haue done þe a gode turne,’ seid Litull John,
‘Ffor sothe as I yow say;
I haue brouȝt þe vnder grene-wode lyne;
Ffare wel, and haue gode day.’
79
‘Nay, be my trouth,’ seid Robyn Hode,
‘So shall hit neuer be;
I make þe maister,’ seid Robyn Hode,
‘Off alle my men and me.’
80
‘Nay, be my trouth,’ seid Litull John,
‘So shalle hit neuer be;
But lat me be a felow,’ seid Litull John,
‘No noder kepe I be.’
81
Thus John gate Robyn Hod out of prison,
Sertan withoutyn layn;
Whan his men saw hym hol and sounde,
Ffor sothe they were full fayne.
82
They filled in wyne, and made hem glad,
Vnder þe levys smale,
And ȝete pastes of venyson,
Þat gode was with ale.
83
Than worde came to oure kyng
How Robyn Hode was gon,
And how þe scheref of Notyngham
Durst neuer loke hym vpon.
84
Then bespake oure cumly kyng,
In an angur hye:
Litull John hase begyled þe schereff,
In faith so hase he me.
85
Litul John has begyled vs bothe,
And þat full wel I se;
Or ellis þe schereff of Notyngham
Hye hongut shulde he be.
86
‘I made hem ȝemen of þe crowne,
And gaf hem fee with my hond;
I gaf hem grith,’ seid oure kyng,
‘Thorowout all mery Inglond.
87
‘I gaf theym grith,’ þen seid oure kyng;
‘I say, so mot I the,
Ffor sothe soch a ȝeman as he is on
In all Inglond ar not thre.
88
‘He is trew to his maister,’ seid our kyng;
‘I sey, be swete Seynt John,
He louys better Robyn Hode
Then he dose vs ychon.
89
‘Robyn Hode is euer bond to hym,
Bothe in strete and stalle;
Speke no more of this mater,’ seid oure kyng,
‘But John has begyled vs alle.’
90
Thus endys the talkyng of the munke
And Robyn Hode i-wysse;
God, þat is euer a crowned kyng,
Bryng vs all to his blisse!
