90 [December 23, 1871.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Conducted by
And as he came to Nottingham,
A tinker he did meet,
And seeing him a lusty blade,
He kindly did him greet.
When Robin found on what errand the tinker was engaged, they settled the matter with the quarter-staff; the result was, as usual, an addition to the members of the band. The Pindar, or pound-keeper, of Wakefield was another hero:
"In Wakefield their lives a jolly pindar,
In Wakefield all on the green,
There is neither knight nor squire," said the pindar,
"Nor baron so bold, nor baron so bold,
Dare make a trespass in the town of Wakefield,
But his pledge goes to the penfold."
Robin Hood, Little John, and Will Scarlet, in some way contravened this rule; whereupon the pindar boldly grappled with all three:
He lean'd his back fast unto a tree,
And his foot against a thorn,
And there he fought a long summer day,
And a summer's day so long,
Till their swords in their broad bucklers
Were broken close to their hands.
Robin so admired the pindar, that he induced him to join the band. One of the ballads declares that Robin Hood slew in an encounter fifteen men who had doubted his courage; and this, too, when he was only as many years old. It opens thus:
Robin Hood was a tall young man,
Of fifteen winters old,
Derry ding dong!
And Robin Hood was a proper young man,
Of courage stout and bold,
Hey derry ding dong!
On one occasion he met a lady weeping. On inquiring into the cause, he found that three of her sons were to be executed at Nottingham for killing the king's deer. This was quite enough for him; he resolved to effect a rescue. Proceeding to the city he sought an interview with the sheriff, professed to be earnest in the king's cause, and asked to be permitted to fill the office of hangman, with the only further privilege of being allowed to make one blast on his horn. The sheriff assented, the arrangements were made, Robin blew his horn, whereupon a hundred and ten of his merry men suddenly appeared. The sheriff, thus knowing who was his formidable visitor, speedily consented to let the three prisoners escape:
"Oh take them, oh take them," says great master sheriff,
"Oh take them along with thee;
For there's ne'er a man in all Nottingham,
Can do the like of thee!"
It is noteworthy that Robin, in the midst of his wild achievements, was credited with a reverence for the religious services of the church. That this reverence did not extend to the ecclesiastics is clear enough; his exploits show this, as does a couplet in one of the ballads :
Theyse byshoppes and theyse archebyshoppes
Ye shall them bete and bynde!
Nevertheless, in his own queer way he had a kind of piety. A very ancient ballad contains four stanzas which notice this characteristic in a curious way:
"This is a mery mornynge," said litulle Johne,
"Be hym that dyed on tre,
A more merry man than I am one
Lives not in Christiante."
"Pluck up thy hert, my dere mayster,'
Litulle Johne gan say,
"And think it is a ful fayre
In a mornynge of May."
"Ze on thynge greves me," seid Robyne
"And does my hert mych woo,
That I may not so solemn day
To mas nor matyns goo.
"Hit is a fourtnet and more," said hee,
"Syn I my Sauyour see;
To-day will I to Notyngham,
With the myght of mylde Marye."
He went, but the seriousness of his errand did not prevent him from playing one of his pranks in the city.
Among the persons with whom Robin, or some of his men, came in contact in various adventures, were the Abbot of St. Mary, the Potter, the Beggar, the Stranger, the Ranger, Sir Richard, and the King, all forming the subjects of distinct ballads. The king, we are told, was the means of bringing the outlaw back to a more regular course of life. Going to Sherwood Forest, with a view of seeing this redoubtable Robin Hood, and accompanied by a force sufficient to insure a capture, the king graciously offered pardon on conditions—which Robin accepted. More than one of the ballads tell of the hero's death. He fell sick, and went to a religious house in Yorkshire, the abbess of which was a kinswoman of his. She bled him, and allowed him to bleed to a fatal degree—treacherously, as the songs assert. He longed to see the greenwood once again, and shoot one more arrow before he died. A paraphrase on the old rhymes has been prettily rendered by Bernard Barton:
They rais'd him on his couch, and set
The casement open wide;
Once more, with vain and fond regret,
Fair Nature's face he eyed.
With kindling glance and throbbing heart,
One parting look he cast,
Sped on its way the feather'd dart,
Sank back, and breath'd his last.
And where it fell they dug his grave,
Beneath the greenwood tree:
Meet resting-place for one so brave,
So lawless, frank, and free!
In reference to the music to which these
