In the same MS. from which I extracted Braithwait's Latin Drinking Song, the following version {403} of the well-known song on Robin Goodfellow occurs. It is apparently by the same hand. I give the English, as it contains but six stanzas, and affords some variations from the copy printed by Percy; and indeed one stanza not given by him. Peck attributes the song to Ben Jonson, but we know not on what foundation. It must be confessed that internal evidence is against it. The publication of Percy's _Reliques_ had a no less beneficial influence on the literature of Germany than it had on our own; and Voss had given an admirable version of nine stanzas of this song as early as the year 1793. The first stanza will afford some notion of his manner: "Von Oberon in Feenland, Dem Koenige der Geister, Komm' ich, Knecht Robert, abgesandt, Von meinem Herrn und Meister. Als Kobolt und Pux, Wohlkundig des Spuks, Durchschwarm' ich Nacht vor Nacht. Jezt misch' ich mich ein Zum polternden Reihn, Wohlauf, ihr alle, gelacht, gelacht!" Although the classic ear may be offended by the "barbarous adjunct of rhyme," and by the solecisms and false quantities which sometimes occur, "et alia multa damna atque outragia," others may be amused with these emulations of the cloistered muse of the Middle Ages. The witty author of _Whistlecraft_ has shown that he had a true relish for them, and has successfully tried his hand, observing at the same time: "Those monks were poor proficients in divinity, And scarce knew more of Latin than myself; Compar'd with theirs, they say that true Latinity Appears like porcelain compar'd with delf." Honest Barnaby had no intention of rivalling Horace: his humbler, but not less amusing, prototypes were Walter de Mapes and his cotemporaries. We may accept his own defence, if any is needed: "That paltry Patcher is a bald translator, Whose awl bores at the _words_ but not the matter; But this TRANSLATOR makes good use of leather, By stitching _rhyme_ and _reason_ both together." S. W. SINGER. A SONG ON ROBIN GOODFELLOW. "From Oberon in faery-land, The king of ghosts and goblins there, Mad Robin I, at his command, Am sent to view the night-sports here. What revel rout is here about, In every corner where I go; I will it see, and merry be, And make good sport with ho, ho, ho! "As swift as lightning I do fly Amidst the aery welkin soon, And, in a minute's space, descry What things are done below the moon. There's neither hag nor spirit shall wag, In any corner where I go; But Robin I, their feats will spy, And make good sport with ho, ho, ho! "Sometimes you find me like a man, Sometimes a hawk, sometimes a hound, Then to a horse me turn I can, And trip and troll about you round: But if you stride my back to ride, As swift as air I with you go, O'er hedge, o'er lands, o'er pool, o'er ponds, I run out laughing ho, ho, ho!