Folklore -- England; Robin Hood (Legendary character) -- Legends
The youngster was clothed in scarlet red
In scarlet fine and gay;
And he did frisk it o’er the plain,
And chanted a roundelay.
One fine morning, soon after the proud Sheriff had been brought to
grief, Robin Hood and Little John went strolling down a path through the
wood. It was not far from the foot--bridge where they had fought their
memorable battle; and by common impulse they directed their steps to
the brook to quench their thirst and rest them in the cool bushes. The
morning gave promise of a hot day. The road even by the brook was dusty.
So the cooling stream was very pleasing and grateful to their senses.
On each side of them, beyond the dusty highway, stretched out broad
fields of tender young corn. On the yon side of the fields uprose the
sturdy oaks and beeches and ashes of the forest; while at their feet
modest violets peeped out shyly and greeted the loiterers with an odor
which made the heart glad. Over on the far side of the brook in a tiny
bay floated three lily-pads; and from amid some clover blossoms on the
bank an industrious bee rose with the hum of busy contentment. It was a
day so brimful of quiet joy that the two friends lay flat on their
backs gazing up at the scurrying clouds, and neither caring to break the
silence.
Presently they heard some one coming up the road whistling gaily, as
though he owned the whole world and ‘twas but made to whistle in. Anon
he chanted a roundelay with a merry note.
“By my troth, a gay bird!” quoth Robin, raising up on his elbow. “Let us
lie still, and trust that his purse is not as light as his heart.”
So they lay still, and in a minute more up came a smart stranger dressed
in scarlet and silk and wearing a jaunty hat with a curling cock feather
in it. His whole costume was of scarlet, from the feather to the silk
hosen on his legs. A goodly sword hung at his side, its scabbard all
embossed with tilting knights and weeping ladies. His hair was long and
yellow and hung clustering about his shoulders, for all the world like a
schoolgirl’s; and he bore himself with as mincing a gait as the pertest
of them.
Little John clucked his teeth drolly at this sight. “By my troth, a gay
bird!” he said echoing the other’s words--then added, “But not so bad a
build for all his prettiness. Look you, those calves and thighs are well
rounded and straight. The arms, for all that gold-wrought cloak, hang
stoutly from full shoulders. I warrant you the fop can use his dainty
sword right well on occasion.”
“Nay,” retorted Robin, “he is naught but a ladies’ man from court. My
long-bow ‘gainst a plugged shilling that he would run and bellow lustily
at sight of a quarter-staff. Stay you behind this bush and I will soon
get some rare sport out of him. Belike his silk purse may contain more
pennies than the law allows to one man in Sherwood or Barnesdale.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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