Bury me, brothers, between three roads, The Kief, and the Moscow, and the Murom famed in story. At my feet fasten my horse, At my head set a life-bestowing cross, In my right hand place my keen sabre. Whoever passes by will stop; Before my life-bestowing cross will he utter a prayer, At the sight of my black steed will he be startled, At the sight of my keen sword will he be terrified. ‘Surely this is a brigand who is buried here, A son of the brigand, the bold Stenka Razín.’ Sakharof, Skazaniya Russkago Naroda, I, iii, 226.[96] Dimos, twenty years a Klepht, tells his comrades to make his tomb wide and high enough for him to fight in it, standing up, and to leave a window, so that the swallows may tell him that spring has come and the nightingales that it is May: Fauriel, I, 56; Zambelios, p. 607, 13; Passow, p. 85. This is a song of the beginning of the present century. #B# is translated in Le Magasin Pittoresque, 1838, p. 126 f; by Loève-Veimars, p. 223; by Cantù, Documenti alla Storia Universale, V, III, p. 801; Anastasius Grün, p. 200; Knortz, L. u. R. Alt-Englands, No 20. A Percy MS., p. 21; Hales and Furnivall, I, 53. 1 ‘I will neuer eate nor drinke,’ Robin Hood said, ‘Nor meate will doo me noe good, Till I haue beene att merry Churchlees, My vaines for to let blood.’ 2 ‘That I reade not,’ said Will Scarllett, ‘M_aster_, by the assente of me, W_i_thout halfe a hundred of yo_u_r best bowmen You take to goe with yee. 3 ‘For there a good yeoman doth abide Will be sure to quarrell w_i_th thee, And if thou haue need of vs, m_aster_, In faith we will not flee.’ 4 ‘And thou be feard, thou Will_iam_ Scarlett, Att home I read thee bee:’ ‘And you be wrothe, my deare m_aster_, You shall neuer heare more of mee.’ * * * * * 5 ‘For there shall noe man w_i_th me goe, Nor man w_i_th mee ryde, And Litle Iohn shall be my man, And beare my benbow by my side.’ 6 ‘You’st beare yo_u_r bowe, m_aster_, yo_u_r selfe, And shoote for a peny w_i_th mee:’ ‘To that I doe assent,’ Robin Hood sayd, ‘And soe, Iohn, lett it bee.’ 7 They two bolde children shotten together, All day theire selfe in ranke, Vntill they came to blacke water, And over it laid a planke. 8 Vpon it there kneeled an old woman, Was banning Robin Hoode; ‘Why dost thou bann Ro_bin_ Hoode?’ said Robin, . . . . . . . * * * * * 9 . . . . . . . ‘To giue to Robin Hoode; Wee weepen for his deare body, _Tha_t this day must be lett bloode.’ 10 ‘The dame prior is my aunts daughter, And nie vnto my kinne; I know shee wold me noe harme this day, For all the world to winne.’