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'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 lass,

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

XXXII

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
F. Moultrie

been.

XXXIII

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 compassion here.

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'The hare is crouching in her form,
The hart beside the hind;
An aged man, amid the storm,
No shelter can I find.

'You hear the Ettrick's sullen roar,

Dark, deep, and strong is he, And I must ford the Ettrick o'er, Unless you pity me.

'The iron gate is bolted hard,
At which I knock in vain ;
The owner's heart is closer barr'd,
Who hears me thus complain.

E

'Farewell, farewell! and Heaven grant,
When old and frail you be,

You never may the shelter want,
That's now denied to me!'

The Ranger on his couch lay warm,
And heard him plead in vain ;
But oft, amid December's storm,
He'll hear that voice again :

For lo, when through the vapours dank
Morn shone on Ettrick fair,

A corpse, amid the alders rank,

The Palmer welter'd there.

Sir W. Scott

XXXIV

THE FORSAKEN MERMAN

Come dear children, let us away;

Down and away below.

Now my brothers call from the bay ;

Now the great winds shorewards blow;
Now the salt tides seawards flow;

Now the wild white horses play,

Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.
Children dear, let us away.

This way, this way.

Call her once before you go.
Call once yet,

In a voice that she will know :

'Margaret! Margaret !'

T

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