The Robin Hood Garlands and Ballads: With the Tale of The Lytell Geste: a Collection of All the Poems, Songs and Ballads Relating to this Celebrated Yeoman; to which is Prefixed His History and Character, Deduced from Documents Hitherto Unrevised, Volume 2John Mathew Gutch J. R. Smith, 1850 |
Contents
| i | |
| xxv | |
| 21 | |
| 35 | |
| 45 | |
| 61 | |
| 68 | |
| 84 | |
| 109 | |
| 122 | |
| 143 | |
| 158 | |
| 181 | |
| 189 | |
| 197 | |
| 203 | |
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| 214 | |
| 219 | |
| 225 | |
| 344 | |
| 356 | |
| 369 | |
| 377 | |
| 389 | |
| 395 | |
| 401 | |
| 408 | |
| 412 | |
| 419 | |
| 426 | |
| 433 | |
Common terms and phrases
Adam Bell ancient Anthony à Wood archers arrow ballad beggar bishop bishop of Hereford blood blow bold Robin Hood boon brave brume Caerlel collection cries cry'd curtall fryer derry doth edition Editor fallow deer fast fayre fight forest Garland gold gone green green-wood grene hanged hast hath haue hold thy hand Hood's horn jolly Robin king's knave knight kyng Little John litulle lord master mery never noble Nottingham Nottinghamshire old black-letter copy outlaw pike-staff potter pray printed Queen Katherine quoth Robin Hood reply'd Ritson Roben ROBIN HOOD'S CHASE ROBIN HOOD'S DEATH ROBYN HODE sayd Scadlock screffe seid seyde shepherd sheriff Shewing shoot shot slain song sore squires stand stout Stutly sword thee theyr thou proud fellow thou shalt thow thre tinker toke town tree tune Whood wode wyfe wyll yeomen yonder
Popular passages
Page 216 - I have no money," the young man said, "But five shillings and a ring; And that I have kept this seven long years, To have it at my wedding. "Yesterday I should have married a maid, But she is now from me ta'en, And chosen to be an old knight's delight, Whereby my poor heart is slain.
Page 272 - Lay me a green sod under my head, And another at my feet ; And lay my bent bow by my side, Which was my music sweet ; And make my grave of gravel and green, Which is most right and meet. ' Let me have length and breadth enough, With a green sod under my head ; That they may say, when I am dead, Here lies bold Robin Hood.
Page 205 - There are twelve months in all the year, As I hear many say, But the merriest month in all the year Is the merry month of May. Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone, With a link a down, and a day, And there he met a silly old woman, Was weeping on the way. ' What news ? what news ? thou silly old woman, What news hast thou for me?
Page 267 - Weep, weep, ye woodmen wail, Your hands with sorrow wring; Your master Robin Hood lies dead, Therefore sigh as you sing. Here lie his primer and his beads, His bent bow and his arrows keen, His good sword and his holy cross: Now cast on flowers fresh and green; And as they fall shed tears and say, Wella, wella-day, wella, wella-day: Thus cast ye flowers and sing, And on to Wakefield take your way.
Page 207 - Then he put on the old man's hat, It stood full high on the crown : " The first bold bargain that I come at, It shall make thee come down.
Page 273 - CLOUDESLY, — were three noted outlaws, whose skill in archery rendered them formerly as famous in the North of England, as Robin Hood and his fellows were in the midland counties.
Page xxv - For sothe he is in this towne. ' ' I haue spyed the false felone, As he stondes at his masse ; Hit is longe of the," seide the munke,
Page 207 - Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone, With a link, a down, and a ' day,' And there he met with a silly old palmer, Was walking along the highway. " What news ? what news ? thou silly old man, What news, I do thee pray ? " Said he, Three squires in Nottingham town, Are condemn'd to die this day. " Come change thy apparel with me, old man, Come change thy apparel for mine ; Here is forty shillings in good silver, Go drink it in beer or wine.
Page xv - Poetica, being a catalogue of English poets of the 12th, 13th, 14th, 15th, and 16th centuries ; 4 a Collection (in three volumes) of Ancient English Metrical Romances ; and " An Essay on Abstinence from Animal Food, as a Moral Duty," which was his last production.
Page xxv - In somer, when the shawes be sheyne, And leves be large and long, Hit is full mery in feyre foreste To here the foulys song: To se the dere draw to the dale And leve the hilles hee, And shadow hem in the leves grene Under the grene-wode tre. Hit befel on Whitsontide, Erly in a May mornyng, The Son up feyre can shyne, And the briddis mery can syng. 'This is a mery mornyng...