"'Hark, hark! I hear the dancing, And a nimble morris prancing; The bagpipe and the morris bells That they are not far hence us tells.' From out of the leafy Arden are they bringing in the May-pole. The oxen move slowly with the ponderous wain; they are garlanded, but not for the sacrifice. Around the spoil of the forest are the pipers and the dancers--maidens in blue kirtles, and foresters in green tunics. Amidst the shouts of young and old, childhood leaping and clapping its hands, is the May-pole raised. But there are great personages forthcoming--not so great, however, as in more ancient times. There are Robin Hood and Little John, in their grass-green tunics; but their bows and their sheaves of arrows are more for show than use. Maid Marian is there; but she is a mockery--a smooth-faced youth in a watchet-colored tunic, with flowers and coronets, and a mincing gait, but not the shepherdess who "'with garlands gay Was made the Lady of the May.' There is farce amidst the pastoral. The age of unrealities has already in part arrived. Even among country-folk there is burlesque. There is personation, with a laugh at the things that are represented. The Hobby-horse and the Dragon, however, produce their shouts of merriment. But the hearty morris-dancers soon spread a spirit of genial mirth among all the spectators. The clownish Maid Marian will now 'caper upright like a wild Morisco.' Friar Tuck sneaks away from his ancient companions to join hands with some undisguised maiden; the Hobby-horse gets rid of pasteboard and his foot-cloth; and the Dragon quietly deposits his neck and tail for another season. Something like the genial chorus of _Summer's Last Will and Testament_ is rung out:-- "'Trip and go, heave and ho, Up and down, to and fro, From the town to the grove, Two and two, let us rove, A-Maying, a-playing; Love hath no gainsaying, So merrily trip and go.' "The early-rising moon still sees the villagers on that green of Shottery. The Piper leans against the May-pole; the featliest of dancers still swim to the music:-- "'So have I seen Tom Piper stand upon our village-green, Backed with the May-pole, whilst a jocund crew In gentle motion circularly threw Themselves around him.' The same beautiful writer--one of the last of our golden age of poetry--has described the parting gifts bestowed upon the 'merry youngsters' by "'the Lady of the May Set in an arbor (on a holiday) Built by the May-pole, where the jocund swains Dance with the maidens to the bagpipe's strains, When envious night commands them to be gone.'" These latter quotations are from William Browne's _Britannia's Pastorals_ (book ii. published in 1616), and the poet goes on to tell how the Lady