[Annotations: 1.1: ‘carping’ = talking, tale. 1.5: This line is the burden: it is repeated at the end in the MS. 2.1: ‘wern’ = were (plural termination as in ‘wenten,’ etc.); ‘children,’ young fellows, as in ‘Child Roland,’ etc. 5.2: ‘flo,’ arrow. 6.1: ‘i-flaw’ = flayed. Cp. ‘slaw,’ 16.3. 8.1: MS. reads ‘and lokyd west.’ 8.4: ‘clepen,’ name, call. 9.4: _i.e._, laced in a thrum, or warp. 10.4: ‘Misaunter [= misadventure] have’ was used in imprecations: cf. in the _Merlin_ romance, ‘Mysauenture haue that it kepeth eny counseile.’ 11.3: ‘Each at the other’s heart.’ 13.3: ‘sanchothes’: unexplained; but it obviously means that the arrow struck between his legs. 16.1: ‘yelp,’ boast. 16.3: ‘slaw,’ slain.] ROBIN HOOD AND THE MONK +The Text+ is modernised from a MS. in the University Library, Cambridge (MS. Ff. v. 48), which belongs to the middle of the fifteenth century. We have also a single leaf of another MS. version, of about the same date, preserved amongst the Bagford Ballads in the British Museum, but this contains a bare half-dozen stanzas. +The Story+ might be called a counterpart to _Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne_, inasmuch as it has Little John for its hero, and relates how he set his master free, although Robin had lost his temper with him in the morning. A most unfortunate hiatus after 30.2 prevents us from learning how Robin’s fate was reported to his men; but as it stands it is a perfect ballad, straightforward, lively, and picturesque. The first five stanzas, which make a delightful little lyric in themselves, breathe the whole spirit of the greenwood. ROBIN HOOD AND THE MONK 1. In summer, when the shaws be sheen And leaves be large and long, It is full merry in fair forest To hear the fowlës song, 2. To see the deer draw to the dale, And leave the hillës hee, And shadow them in the leavës green, Under the greenwood tree. 3. It befel on Whitsuntide, Early in a May morning, The sun up fair can shine, And the briddës merry can sing. 4. ‘This is a merry morning,’ said Little John, ‘By him that died on tree; A more merry man than I am one Lives not in Christiantë. 5. ‘Pluck up thy heart, my dear master,’ Little John can say, ‘And think it is a full fair time In a morning of May.’ 6. ‘Yea, one thing grieves me,’ said Robin, ‘And does my heart much woe; That I may not no solemn day To mass nor matins go. 7. ‘It is a fortnight and more,’ said he, ‘Syn I my Saviour see; To-day will I to Nottingham, With the might of mild Marie.’ 8. Then spake Much the milner son, Ever more well him betide! ‘Take twelve of thy wight yeomen, Well weapon’d by thy side. Such one would thyselfë slon, That twelve dare not abide.’