He shunneth the heat 'mong the fern-stalks green,-- Or dreameth of elves 'neath the forest treen: He wrappeth him up when the oak leaves sere And the ripe acorns fall, at the wane o' the year; And he tippleth at Yule, by the log's cheery glow.-- Come, jollily trowl The brown round bowl, And pledge the bold swineherd of Stow! The bishop he passeth the swineherd in scorn,-- Yet, to mass wends the swineherd at Candlemas morn; And he offereth his horn, at our Lady's hymn, With bright silver pennies filled up to the brim:-- Saith the bishop, "A very good fellow, I trow!"-- Come, jollily trowl The brown round bowl, And honour the swineherd of Stow! And now the brave swineherd, in stone, ye may spy, Holding his horn, on the Minster so high!-- But the swineherd he laugheth, and cracketh his joke, With his pig-boys that vittle beneath the old oak,-- Saying, "Had I no pennies, they'd make me no show!"-- Come, jollily trowl The brown round bowl, And laugh with the swineherd of Stow![16] * * * * * So merrily the chorus rose,-- For every guest chimed in,-- That, had the dead been there to doze, They had surely waked with the din!-- So the rustics said while their brains were mellow; And all called the swineherd "a jolly good fellow!" "Come, hearty Snell!" said the Baron good; "What sayest thou more of the merry greenwood?" "I remember no lay of the forest, now,"-- Said Snell, with a glance at three maids in a row; "Belike, I could whimper a love-lorn ditty,-- If Tib, Doll, and Bell, would listen with pity!" "Then chaunt us thy love-song!" cried Baron and guests; And Snell, looking shrewd, obeyed their behests. The Woodman's Love Song. Along the meads a simple maid One summer's day a musing strayed, And, as the cowslips sweet she pressed, This burthen to the breeze confessed-- I fear that I'm in love! For, ever since so playfully Young Robin trod this path with me, I always feel more happy here Than ever I have felt elsewhere:-- I fear that I'm in love! And, ever since young Robin talked So sweetly, while alone we walked, Of truth, and faith, and constancy, I've wished he always walked with me:-- I fear that I'm in love! And, ever since that pleasing night When, 'neath the lady moon's fair light, He asked my hand, but asked in vain, I've wished he'd walk, and ask again:-- I fear that I'm in love! And yet, I greatly fear, alas! That wish will ne'er be brought to pass!-- What else to fear I cannot tell:-- I hope that all will yet be well-- But, surely, I'm in love! * * * * * Coy was their look, but true their pleasure, While the maidens listed the woodman's measure; Nor shrunk they at laughter of herdsman or hind, But mixed with the mirth, and still looked kind.