He, who from zone to zone Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone, Will lead my steps aright.

_W. C. Bryant_

CXLII

_ROBIN HOOD AND THE BISHOP OF HEREFORD_

Some will talk of bold Robin Hood, And some of barons bold; But I'll tell you how he served the bishop of Hereford, When he robbed him of his gold.

As it befel in merry Barnsdale, All under the greenwood tree, The bishop of Hereford was to come by, With all his company.

'Come kill me a ven'son,' said bold Robin Hood, 'Come kill me a good fat deer; The bishop of Hereford is to dine with me to-day, And he shall pay well for his cheer.

'We'll kill a fat ven'son,' said bold Robin Hood, 'And dress it by the highway side; And we will watch the bishop narrowly, Lest some other way he should ride.'

Robin Hood dressed himself in shepherd's attire, With six of his men also; And, when the bishop of Hereford came by, They about the fire did go.

'O what is the matter?' then said the bishop, 'Or for whom do you make this ado?

Or why do you kill the king's ven'son, When your company is so few?'

'We are shepherds,' said bold Robin Hood, 'And we keep sheep all the year, And we are disposed to be merry this day, And to kill of the king's fat deer.'

'You are brave fellows,' said the bishop, 'And the king your doings shall know: Therefore make haste and come along with me, For before the king you shall go.'

'O pardon, O pardon,' said bold Robin Hood, 'O pardon, I thee pray!

For it becomes not your lordship's coat To take so many lives away.'

'No pardon, no pardon,' said the bishop, 'No pardon I thee owe; Therefore make haste and come along with me, For before the king you shall go.'

Then Robin set his back against a tree, And his foot against a thorn, And from underneath his shepherd's coat He pull'd out a bugle horn.

He put the little end to his mouth, And a loud blast did he blow, Till three score and ten of bold Robin's men Came running all on a row.

All making obeisance to bold Robin Hood, 'Twas a comely sight for to see.

'What is the matter, master?' said Little John, 'That you blow so hastily?'

'O here is the bishop of Hereford, And no pardon we shall have:'

'Cut off his head, master,' said Little John, And throw him into his grave.'

'O pardon, O pardon,' said the bishop, 'O pardon, I thee pray!

For if I had known it had been you, I'd have gone some other way.'

'No pardon, no pardon,' said bold Robin Hood, 'No pardon I thee owe; Therefore make haste and come along with me, For to merry Barnsdale you shall go.'

Then Robin he took the bishop by the hand, And led him to merry Barnsdale; He made him to stay and sup with him that night, And to drink wine, beer, and ale.

'Call in a reckoning,' said the bishop, 'For methinks it grows wondrous high:'

'Lend me your purse, master,' said Little John, And I'll tell you bye and bye.'

Then Little John took the bishop's cloak, And spread it upon the ground, And out of the bishop's portmantua He told three hundred pound.

'Here's money enough, master,' said Little John, 'And a comely sight 'tis to see; It makes me in charity with the bishop, Though he heartily loveth not me.'

Robin Hood took the bishop by the hand, And he caused the music to play; And he made the bishop to dance in his boots, And glad he could so get away.

_Old Ballad_

CXLIII

_SIR JOHN SUCKLING'S CAMPAIGN_

Sir John got him an ambling nag, To Scotland for to ride-a, With a hundred horse more, all his own he swore, To guard him on every side-a.

No errant knight ever went to fight With half so gay a bravado; Had you seen but his look, you'd have sworn on a book He'd have conquered a whole armado.

The ladies ran all to the windows to see So gallant and warlike a sight-a, And as he pa.s.s'd by, they began to cry, 'Sir John, why will you go fight-a?'

But he like a cruel knight spurred on, His heart did not relent-a; For, till he came there, he show'd no fear; Till then, why should he repent-a?

The king (Heaven bless him!) had singular hopes Of him and all his troop-a; The Borderers they, as they met him on the way, For joy did holloa and whoop-a.

None liked him so well as his own colonel, Who took him for John de Wert-a; But when there were shows of gunning and blows, My gallant was nothing so pert-a.

For when the Scots' army came within sight, And all men prepared to fight-a, He ran to his tent; they ask'd what he meant; He swore that his stomach ached quite-a.

The colonel sent for him back again, To quarter him in the van-a, But Sir John did swear, he came not there To be kill'd the very first man-a.

To cure his fear he was sent to the rear, Some ten miles back and more-a; Where he did play at trip and away, And ne'er saw the enemy more-a.

But now there is peace, he's return'd to increase His money which lately he spent-a; But his lost honour must still lie in the dust; At Berwick away it went-a.

_Old Ballad_

CXLIV

_THE NUN'S LAMENT FOR PHILIP SPARROW_