VIII.

OLD ROBIN OF PORTINGALE.

From an ancient copy in the Editor's folio MS. which was judged to require considerable corrections.

In the former edition the hero of this piece had been called Sir Robin, but that title not being in the MS. is now omitted.

_Giles_, steward to a rich old merchant trading to _Portugal_, is qualified with the title of _Sir_, not as being a knight, but rather, I conceive, as having received an inferior order of priesthood.

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[Percy's note in the MS. is as follows, "When I first set to examine this I had not yet learnt to hold this old MS. in much regard." Every line is altered, so that it has been necessary to add a copy of the original, although the interest of the ballad itself is not very great. Percy's most notable correction is the introduction of 20 good knights to help Robin against his wife's twenty-four traitors.]

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Let never again soe old a man Marrye soe yonge a wife, As did old Robin of Portingale; Who may rue all the dayes of his life.

For the mayors daughter of Lin, god wott, 5 He chose her to his wife, And thought with her to have lived in love, By they fell to hate and strife.

They scarce were in their wed-bed laid, And scarce was hee asleepe, 10 But upp shee rose, and forth shee goes, To the steward, and gan to weepe.

Sleepe you, wake you, faire sir Gyles? Or be you not within? Sleepe you, wake you, faire sir Gyles, 15 Arise and let me inn.

O, I am waking, sweete, he said, Sweete ladye, what is your will? I have unbethought me of a wile[137] How my wed-lord weell spill.[138] 20

Twenty-four good knights, shee sayes. That dwell about this towne, Even twenty-four of my next cozèns, Will helpe to dinge[139] him downe.

All that beheard his litle footepage, 25 As he watered his masters steed; And for his masters sad perille His verry heart did bleed.

He mourned still, and wept full sore; I sweare by the holy roode 30 The teares he for his master wept Were blent water and bloude.[140]

And that beheard his deare mastèr As he stood at his garden pale: Sayes, Ever alacke, my litle foot-page, 35 What causes thee to wail?

Hath any one done to thee wronge Any of thy fellowes here? Or is any of thy good friends dead, That thou shedst manye a teare? 40

Or, if it be my head bookes-man,[141] Aggrieved he shal bee: For no man here within my howse, Shall doe wrong unto thee.

O, it is not your head bookes-man, 45 Nor none of his degree: But, on to-morrow ere it be noone[142] All deemed[143] to die are yee.

And of that bethank your head stewàrd, And thank your gay ladie. 50 If this be true, my litle foot-page, The heyre of my land thoust bee.

If it be not true, my dear mastèr, No good death let me die. If it be not true, thou litle foot-page, 55 A dead corse shalt thou lie.[144]

O call now downe my faire ladye, O call her downe to mee: And tell my ladye gay how sicke, And like to die I bee. 60

Downe then came his ladye faire, All clad in purple and pall: The rings that were on her fingèrs, Cast light thorrow the hall.

What is your will, my owne wed-lord? 65 What is your will with mee? O see, my ladye deere, how sicke, And like to die I bee.

And thou be sicke, my own wed-lord, Soe sore it grieveth me: 70 But my five maydens and myselfe Will "watch thy" bedde for thee:[145]

And at the waking of your first sleepe, We will a hott drinke make: And at the waking of your "next" sleepe,[146] 75 Your sorrowes we will slake.

He put a silk cote on his backe, And mail of manye a fold: And hee putt a steele cap on his head, Was gilt with good red gold. 80

He layd a bright browne sword by his side, And another att his feete: "And twentye good knights he placed at hand, To watch him in his sleepe."

And about the middle time of the night, 85 Came twentye-four traitours inn: Sir Giles he was the foremost man, The leader of that ginn.[147]

Old Robin with his bright browne sword, Sir Gyles head soon did winn: 90 And scant of all those twenty-four, Went out one quick[148] agenn.

None save only a litle foot page, Crept forth at a window of stone: And he had two armes when he came in, 95 And he went back with one.

Upp then came that ladie gaye With torches burning bright: She thought to have brought sir Gyles a drinke, Butt she found her owne wedd knight. 100

The first thinge that she stumbled on It was sir Gyles his foote: Sayes, Ever alacke, and woe is mee! Here lyes my sweete hart-roote.

The next thinge that she stumbled on 105 It was sir Gyles his heade; Sayes, Ever, alacke, and woe is me! Heere lyes my true love deade.

Hee cutt the pappes beside her brest, And did her body spille;[149] 110 He cutt the eares beside her heade, And bade her love her fille.

He called then up his litle foot-page, And made him there his heyre; And sayd henceforth my worldlye goodes 115 And countrye I forsweare.

He shope[150] the crosse on his right shouldèr, Of the white "clothe" and the redde,[151] And went him into the holy land, Wheras Christ was quicke and dead. 120

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[The following is the original ballad from the Folio MS. ed. Hales and Furnivall, vol. i. p. 235.

God! let neuer soe old a man marry so yonge a wiffe as did old Robin of portingale! he may rue all the dayes of his liffe. 4

ffor the Maiors daughter of Lin, god wott, he chose her to his wife, & thought to haue liued in quiettnesse with her all the dayes of his liffe. 8

they had not in their wed bed laid, scarcly were both on sleepe, but vpp shee rose, & forth shee goes to Sir Gyles, & fast can weepe, 12

Saies, "sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles, or be not you within?"

"but I am waking, sweete," he said, "Lady, what is your will?" 16 "I haue vnbethought me of a will, how my wed Lord we shall spill.

"24 knights, she sayes, that dwells about this towne, 20 eene 24 of my Next Cozens, will helpe to dinge him downe."

with that beheard his litle foote page as he was watering his Masters steed, 24 Soe s * * * * his verry heart did bleed;

he mourned, sist, and wept full sore; I sweare by the holy roode, 28 the teares he for his Master wept were blend water & bloude.

with that beheard his deare Master as in his garden sate, 32 says, "euer alacke my litle page! what causes thee to weepe?

"hath any one done to thee wronge, any of thy fellowes here, 36 or is any of thy good friends dead which makes thee shed such teares?

"or if it be my head bookes man, grieued againe he shalbe, 40 nor noe man within my howse shall doe wrong vnto thee."

"but it is not your head bookes man, nor none of his degree, 44 but or to morrow, ere it be Noone, you are deemed to die;

"& of that thanke your head Steward, & after your gay Ladie." 48 "If it be true, my little foote page, Ile make thee heyre of all my land."

"if it be not true, my deare Master, god let me neuer dye." 52 "if it be not true, thou little foot page, a dead corse shalt thou be."

he called downe his head kookes man, cooke in kitchen super to dresse: 56 "all & anon, my deare Master, anon at your request."

"& call you downe my faire Lady, this night to supp with mee." 60

& downe then came that fayre Lady, was cladd all in purple & palle, the rings that were vpon her fingers cast light thorrow the hall. 64

"What is your will, my owne wed Lord, what is your will with mee?" "I am sicke, fayre Lady, sore sicke, & like to dye." 68

"but & you be sicke, my owne wed Lord, soe sore it greiueth mee, but my 5 maydens & my selfe will goe & make your bedd, 72

"& at the wakening of your first sleepe, you shall haue a hott drinke Made, & at the wakening of your first sleepe your sorrowes will haue a slake." 76

he put a silke cote on his backe, was 13 inches folde, & put a steele cap vpon his head, was gilded with good red gold; 80

& he layd a bright browne sword by his side, & another att his ffeete, & full well knew old Robin then whether he shold wake or sleepe. 84

& about the Middle time of the Night came 24 good knights in, Syr Gyles he was the formost man, soe well he knew that ginne. 88

Old Robin with a bright browne sword Sir Gyles head he did winne, soe did he all those 24, neuer a one went quicke out [agen;] 92

none but one litle foot page crept forth at a window of stone, & he had 2 armes when he came in And [when he went out he had none]. 96

Vpp then came that Ladie bright with torches burning light; shee thought to haue brought Sir Gyles a drinke, but shee found her owne wedd Knight, 100

& the first thinge that this Ladye stumbled vpon, was of Sir Gyles his ffoote, sayes, "euer alacke, and woe is me, heere lyes my sweete hart roote!" 104

& the 2^d thing that this Ladie stumbled on, was of Sir Gyles his head, sayes, "euer alacke, and woe is me, heere lyes my true loue deade!" 108

hee cutt the papps beside he[r] brest, & bad her wish her will, & he cutt the eares beside her heade, & bade her wish on still. 112

"Mickle is the mans blood I haue spent to doe thee & me some good," sayes, "euer alacke, my fayre Lady, I thinke that I was woode?" 116

he calld then vp his litle foote page, & made him heyre of all his land, & he shope the crosse in his right sholder of the white flesh & the redd. 120 & he sent him into the holy land wheras Christ was quicke & dead.

ffins.]

FOOTNOTES:

[137] Ver. 19. _unbethought_, (properly _onbethought_) this word is still used in the Midland counties in the same sense as _bethought_.

[138] [spoil or kill.]

[139] [knock.]

[140] V. 32. blend, MS.

[141] [clerk.]

[142] Ver. 47. or to-morrow, MS.

[143] [doomed.]

[144] V. 56. bee, MS.

[145] Ver. 72. make the, MS.

[146] V. 75. first, MS.

[147] [snare.]

[148] [alive.]

[149] Ver. 118. fleshe, MS.

[150] [shaped.]

[151] Every person who went on a _Croisade_ to the Holy Land, usually wore a cross on his upper garment, on the right shoulder, as a badge of his profession. Different nations were distinguished by crosses of different colours: The English wore white; the French red; &c. This circumstance seems to be confounded in the ballad. (V. Spelman, _Gloss_.)