Opening the text

Robin Hood: A collection of all the ancient poems, songs, and ballads, now extant, relative to that celebrated English outlaw. To which are prefixed historical anecdotes of his life.

General

Robin Hood: A collection of all the ancient poems, songs, and ballads, now extant, relative to that celebrated English outlaw. To which are prefixed historical anecdotes of his life.

Ballads, English -- England -- Texts; Outlaws -- Poetry; Robin Hood (Legendary character) -- Poetry; Songs, English -- England -- Texts

Robyn stert to that knyght,
   And cut a two his bonde,[195]
 And toke hym in his hand a bowe,
   And bade hym by hym stonde.

 “Leve thy hors the behynde,
   And lerne for to renne ;
 Thou shalt with me to grene wode,
   Through myre, mosse and fenne ; {63}

 Thou shalt with me to grene wode,
   Without ony leasynge,
 Tyll that I have gete us grace,
   Of Edwarde our comly kynge.”


THE SEVENTH FYTTE

 The kynge came to Notynghame,
   With knyghtes in grete araye,
 For to take that gentyll knyght,
   And Robyn Hood, yf[196] he may.

 He asked men of that countrè,
   After Robyn Hode,
 And after that gentyll knyght,
   That was so bolde and stout.

 Whan they had tolde hym the case,
   Our kynge understonde ther tale,
 And seased in his honde
   The knyghtes londes all,

 All the passe of Lancasshyre,
   He went both ferre and nere,
 Tyll he came to Plomton parke,
   He faylyd many of his dere {64}

 There our kynge was wont to se
   Herdes many one,
 He coud unneth fynde one dere,
   That bare ony good horne.

 The kynge was wonder wroth withall,
   And swore by the trynytè,
 “I wolde I had Robyn Hode,
   With eyen I myght hym se ;

 And he that wolde smyte of the knyghtes hede
   And brynge it to me,
 He shall have the knyghtes londes,
   Syr Rycharde at the Le ;

 I gyve it hym with my chartèr,
   And sele it with my honde,
 To have and holde for ever-more,
   In all mery Englonde.”

 Than bespake a fayre olde knyght,
   That was treue in his fay,
 A, my lege lorde the kynge,
   One worde I shall you say ;

 There is no man in this countrè
   May have the knyghtes londes,
 Whyle Robyn Hode may ryde or gone,
   And here a bowe in his hondes ; {65}

 That he ne shall lese his hede,
   That is the best ball in his hode :
 Give it no man, my lorde the kynge,
   That ye wyll any good.

 Half a yere dwelled our comly kynge,
   In Notyngham, and well more,
 Coude he not here of Robyn Hode,
   In what countre that he were ;

 But alway went good Robyn
   By halke and eke by hyll,
 And alway slewe the kynges dere,
   And welt them at his wyll.

 Than bespake a proude fostere,
   That stode by our kynges kne,
 If ye wyll se good Robyn,
   Ye must do after me ;

 Take fyve of the best knyghtes
   That be in your lede,
 And walke downe by ‘yon’[197] abbay,
   And gete you monkes wede.

 And I wyll be your ledes man,
   And lede you the way,
 And or ye come to Notyngham,
   Myn hede then dare I lay, {66}

 That ye shall mete with good Robyn,
   On lyve yf that he be,
 Or ye come to Notyngham,
   With eyen ye shall hym se.

 Full hastly our kynge was dyght,
   So were his knyghtes fyve,
 Everych of them in monkes wede,
   And hasted them thyder blyth.

 Our kynge was grete above his cole,
   A brode hat on his crowne,
 Ryght as he were abbot-lyke,
   They rode up in-to the towne.

 Styf botes our kynge had on,
   Forsoth as I you say,
 He rode syngynge to grene wode,
   The covent was clothed in graye,

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Opening the text

General

Robin Hood: A collection of all the ancient poems, songs, and ballads, now extant, relative to that celebrated English outlaw. To which are prefixed historical anecdotes of his life.

Ballads, English -- England -- Texts; Outlaws -- Poetry; Robin Hood (Legendary character) -- Poetry; Songs, English -- England -- Texts

Robyn stert to that knyght,
   And cut a two his bonde,[195]
 And toke hym in his hand a bowe,
   And bade hym by hym stonde.

 “Leve thy hors the behynde,
   And lerne for to renne ;
 Thou shalt with me to grene wode,
   Through myre, mosse and fenne ; {63}

 Thou shalt with me to grene wode,
   Without ony leasynge,
 Tyll that I have gete us grace,
   Of Edwarde our comly kynge.”


THE SEVENTH FYTTE

 The kynge came to Notynghame,
   With knyghtes in grete araye,
 For to take that gentyll knyght,
   And Robyn Hood, yf[196] he may.

 He asked men of that countrè,
   After Robyn Hode,
 And after that gentyll knyght,
   That was so bolde and stout.

 Whan they had tolde hym the case,
   Our kynge understonde ther tale,
 And seased in his honde
   The knyghtes londes all,

 All the passe of Lancasshyre,
   He went both ferre and nere,
 Tyll he came to Plomton parke,
   He faylyd many of his dere {64}

 There our kynge was wont to se
   Herdes many one,
 He coud unneth fynde one dere,
   That bare ony good horne.

 The kynge was wonder wroth withall,
   And swore by the trynytè,
 “I wolde I had Robyn Hode,
   With eyen I myght hym se ;

 And he that wolde smyte of the knyghtes hede
   And brynge it to me,
 He shall have the knyghtes londes,
   Syr Rycharde at the Le ;

 I gyve it hym with my chartèr,
   And sele it with my honde,
 To have and holde for ever-more,
   In all mery Englonde.”

 Than bespake a fayre olde knyght,
   That was treue in his fay,
 A, my lege lorde the kynge,
   One worde I shall you say ;

 There is no man in this countrè
   May have the knyghtes londes,
 Whyle Robyn Hode may ryde or gone,
   And here a bowe in his hondes ; {65}

 That he ne shall lese his hede,
   That is the best ball in his hode :
 Give it no man, my lorde the kynge,
   That ye wyll any good.

 Half a yere dwelled our comly kynge,
   In Notyngham, and well more,
 Coude he not here of Robyn Hode,
   In what countre that he were ;

 But alway went good Robyn
   By halke and eke by hyll,
 And alway slewe the kynges dere,
   And welt them at his wyll.

 Than bespake a proude fostere,
   That stode by our kynges kne,
 If ye wyll se good Robyn,
   Ye must do after me ;

 Take fyve of the best knyghtes
   That be in your lede,
 And walke downe by ‘yon’[197] abbay,
   And gete you monkes wede.

 And I wyll be your ledes man,
   And lede you the way,
 And or ye come to Notyngham,
   Myn hede then dare I lay, {66}

 That ye shall mete with good Robyn,
   On lyve yf that he be,
 Or ye come to Notyngham,
   With eyen ye shall hym se.

 Full hastly our kynge was dyght,
   So were his knyghtes fyve,
 Everych of them in monkes wede,
   And hasted them thyder blyth.

 Our kynge was grete above his cole,
   A brode hat on his crowne,
 Ryght as he were abbot-lyke,
   They rode up in-to the towne.

 Styf botes our kynge had on,
   Forsoth as I you say,
 He rode syngynge to grene wode,
   The covent was clothed in graye,

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Robin Hood: A collection of all the ancient poems, songs, and ballads, now extant, relative to that celebrated English outlaw. To which are prefixed historical anecdotes of his life.

Robin Hood: A collection of all the ancient poems, songs, and ballads, now extant, relative to that celebrated English outlaw. To which are prefixed historical anecdotes of his life.

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