Robin Hood and þe Monk

This is an Anglish translation of Robin Hood and the Monk, a fifteenth century ballad. I've taken liberties to make it more comprehensible and to keep some of the lines rhyming.

https://d.lib.rochester.edu/teams/text/robin-hood-and-the-monk

The Writ

In þe summer hƿen þe scaƿs ƿere sceen,
And þe leafs ƿere great and long,
It ƿas full merrie in þe fager ƿoods
To hear þe fules' song.

To see þe deers draƿ to þe dale,
And from þe hige hills flee,
To scadoƿ þemselfs in green leafs
Under þe greenƿood tree.

It befell on Hƿitsun
Earlie on a Þrimilk morning.
Þe fager sun abuf did scine,
And þe merrie birds did sing.

"Þis is a merrie morning," sagd Littel John,
"Bi him hƿo died on a tree,
A more merrie man þan I
Lifs not in Cristianiti."

"Pluck up þi heart, mi dear lord,"
Littel John sagd,
"And see þat it is a full fager time,
Þis morning in hƿic ƿe tread."

"Gea, but one þing gnorns me," sagd Robin,
"And does mi heart muc ƿoe.
Þat I mag not knoƿ earnest dag,
To mass nor morning beads go."

"It has been a fortnigt and more," he sagd,
"Sins mi Healend I did see.
Todag I ƿill go to Nottingham
Ƿið þe migt of mild Mari."

Þen spoke Muc, þe miller's son,
Mag for him good þings betide.
"Take tƿelf of þi bold geomen,
Ƿell ƿeaponed, bi þi side.
He hƿo ƿuld haf þee slagn,
Ƿuld dare not þose tƿelf abide."

"Of all mi merrie men," sagd Robin,
"I ƿant no utelaƿ,
But Littel John to bare mi boƿ,
Until I ceose to draƿ."

"Þu scall bare þi oƿn," sagd Littel John,
"Lord, and I ƿill bare mine,
And ƿe ƿill scoot for a pennie,
Under þe greenƿood lind."

"I ƿill not scoot for a pennie." sagd Robin,
"Indeed, Littel John, I sag to þee,
For eferie pennie þu scoots for,
Indeed I ƿill stake þee þree."

Þus þeg scot forþ, þese tƿo geomen,
Boð at busc and stone,
Til Littel John ƿon of his lord,
Fife scillings for hose and scone.

A ferlie þreep fell betƿeen þem,
As þeg ƿent bi þe ƿag.
Littel John sagd he had ƿon fife scillings,
And Robin Hood sagd scortlie "nag".

Robin Hood clept Littel John a liar,
And smote him ƿið his hand.
Littel John ƿaxed ƿroð þereƿið,
And pulled ute his brigt brand.

"Ƿere þu not mi lord," sagd Littel John,
"Þu ƿuld be hit full sore.
Get þiself a man hƿere þu ƿill,
For þu has me no more."

Þen Robin ƿent to Nottingham,
Himself mourning alone,
And Littel John to merrie Scerƿood,
Þe paðs he kneƿ eac one.

Hƿen Robin came to Nottingham,
I ƿill tell þee hƿat happened þen,
He bade to God and mild Mari
To bring him ute sundlie agen.

He ƿent into Halloƿ Mari's circ,
And knelt dune before þe rood.
All hƿo ƿere ƿiðin þe circ
Beheld ƿell Robin Hood.

Beside him stood a great headed monk,
I bid to God ƿoe to him be.
For cƿicklie he melded Robin,
As soon as he did see.

Ute þe door þe monk ran,
Full sƿift and anon.
All þe gates of Nottingham
He made to be sparred eac one.

"Rise up," þe monk sagd, "þu prude sceriff,
Busk þiself and make þiself bund.
I haf spotted þe king's ƿarrie,
Forsooð he is in þis tune."

"I haf spotted þe sneaking ƿarrie,
As he stood þere at mass.
It ƿill be þi scild," sagd þe monk,
"If he sculd slip þi grasp."

"Þis lordsƿike's name is Robin Hood ,
Under þe greenƿood lind.
He ones stole from me a hundred punds,
It scall nefer be ute of mi mind."

Up þen rose þis prude sceriff,
And sƿiftlie made himself geare.
Manie ƿere þe ƿeaponed men
Hƿo to þe circ ƿið him did fare.

Þe doors þeg þorouglie sparred,
Ƿið stafes in full good ƿone;
"Ƿellaƿag," sagd Robin Hood ,
"Nu miss I Littel John."

Þen Robin took ute a tƿohanded sƿord,
Þat hanged dune bi his knee.
Hƿere þe sceriff and his men stood þickest
Þiðerƿard ƿuld he be.

Þrise at þem he ran þen,
Forsooð as I nu sag,
And ƿunded manie a ƿeaponed man,
And tƿelf he sleƿ þat dag.

His sƿord upon þe sceriff's head,
Ƿisslie it broke in tƿo.
"Þe smið þat made þee," sagd Robin,
"I bid God ƿork him ƿoe."

"For nu am I ƿeaponless," sagd Robin,
"Ƿellaƿag, agenst mi ƿill.
But if I seek to flee hens from,
I knoƿ þeg ƿill me kill."

LEAF MISSING ⁘ ROBIN IS CAUGT ⁘ ÞE MERRIE MEN HEAR ÞE ILL TIDINGS

Sum fell into sƿooning as if þeg ƿere dead,
And lag still as anie stone.
None of þem ƿere in þeger rigt mind,
None but Littel John.

"Let bi geƿer ƿagling," sagd Littel John,
"For his luf, Crist hƿo died on a tree.
Ge hƿo sculd be dutie men,
It is a great scame to see."

"Ure lord ƿas hard bestood
And get ran not aƿag.
Pluck up geƿer hearts, and leaf þis moning,
And hearken hƿat I sag."

"He has þeƿed Ure Ladie manie a dag,
And ƿill agen, þe time is nige.
Þerefore I trust in her hore,
No ƿicked deað scall he die."

"Þerefore be glad
And let þis mourning go bi.
I scall deal ƿið þat ƿicked monk,
Ƿið þe migt of mild Mari,
Hƿen I meet him," sagd Littel John
"Ƿe ƿill go but ƿe tƿo".

"Look þat ge keep ƿell ure trist tree
Under þe small leafs,
And spare none of þis hartmeat,
Þat þrugeute þis dale ƿeafs."

Forð þen ƿent þese geomen tƿo,
Littel John and Muc on þe fare.
And looked on Muc's eam's huse,
Þe higeƿag lag full near.

Littel John stood at a ƿindoƿ,
And looked forð from an upper rome.
Þere he saƿ þe monk cum riding bi,
And ƿið him a littel gum.

"Bi mi leef," sagd Littel John to Muc,
"I can tell þis tiding is good.
I see hƿere þe monk cums riding,
I knoƿ him bi his ƿide hood."

"Hƿens cum ge?" sagd Littel John,
"Tell us tidings, hƿatefer ge can sag,
Of a ƿicked utelaƿ,
Hƿo ƿas taken gesterdag."

"He stole from me and mi felloƿs boð,
Tƿentie marks he did gagn.
If þat ƿicked utelaƿ be taken,
Forsooð ƿe ƿuld boð be fagn."

"So did he me," sagd þe monk,
"Of a hundred punds and more.
I lagd þe first hand upon him,
Ge mag þank me þerefore."

"I bid to God to þank þee," sagd Littel John,
"And ƿe ƿill hƿen ƿe mag.
Ƿe ƿill go ƿið þee, ƿið þi leaf,
And bring þee on þi ƿag."

"For Robin Hood has manie a ƿild felloƿ,
I tell þee nu of þat bane.
If þeg kneƿ ge rode þis ƿag,
In leaf ge ƿuld be slagn."

As þeg ƿent talking bi þe ƿag,
Þe monk and Littel John,
John took þe monk's hors bi þe head,
Full soon and anon.

John took þe monk's hors bi þe head,
Forsooð as I nu sag.
So did Muc fang þe littel gum,
So he culd not flee aƿag.

Bi þe þroat of þe hood
John pulled þe monk dune.
John ƿas not of him agast,
He let him fall on his crune.

Littel John hƿo ƿas so gnornie,
Dreƿ ute his sƿord in one sƿoop.
Þe monk saƿ he ƿuld be killed,
Ludelie for mils he did roop.

"He ƿas mi lord," sagd Littel John,
"Hƿo þu has brougt suc bale.
Þu ƿill nefer see ure king,
Nor tell him þi last tale."

John smote off þe monk's head,
No longer ƿuld he dƿell.
So did Muc þe littel gum,
For fear þat he ƿuld tell.

Þere þeg buried þem boð,
In negðer moss nor ling.
And Littel John and Muc as feres
Took þe monk's errands to þe king.

Littel John came unto þe king,
He knelt dune upon his knee.
"God neer þee, mi lord,
Iesu neer þee and see."

"God neer þee, mi king."
To speak John ƿas full bold.
He gafe him þe errands in his hand,
Þe king did þem unfold.

Þe king red þe errands anon,
And sagd, "So must I þee,
þere ƿas nefer geoman in merrie England
I longed so sore to see."

"Hƿere is þe monk hƿo þese sculd haf brougt?"
Þat þe king did sag.
"Bi mi treƿð," sagd Littel John,
"He died along þe ƿag."

Þe king gafe Muc and Littel John
Tƿentie punds and þen,
Made þem geomen of þe þrone,
And bade þem go agen.

He gafe John þe seal in hand,
To þe sceriff for him to bare,
To bring Robin Hood to him,
And no man do him dere.

John took his leaf of þe king,
Forsooð as I nu sag,
Þe next dag to Nottingham
To take he gede þe ƿag.

Hƿen John came to Nottingham
Þe gates ƿere sparred eac one.
John clept up to þe porter,
And he ansƿered back anon.

"Hƿat is þe inting," asked Littel John,
"Þu spars þe gates so fast?"
"Along of Robin Hood ," sagd þe porter,
"Nu in deep {{over|imprisonment|haft} he is þroƿn."

"John and Muc and Ƿill scaðelock,
Forsooð as I nu sag,
Þeg sleƿ þe men upon þe ƿalls,
And figt us here eferie dag."

John aspired after þe sceriff,
And soon he him fund;
He opened þe kings sunderseal,
And handed it on dune.

Hƿen þe sceriff saƿ þe king's seal,
He did off his hood anon.
"Hƿere is þe monk þat bore þe errands?"
He asked of Littel John.

"Þe king is so fagn ƿið him," sagd Littel John,
"Forsooð as I nu sag,
He has made him abbot of Ƿestminster,
A lord of þat abbey."

Þe sceriff did John harrie,
And gafe him ƿine of þe best.
At nigt þeg ƿent to þeger beds,
And eferie man to his rest.

Hƿen þe sceriff ƿas asleep,
Drunken ƿið ƿine and ale,
Littel John and Muc forsooð
Fund þe ƿag to þe cƿartern.

John clept up þe cƿarternkeeper,
And bade him rise anon.
"Robin Hood has broken ute,
And from it he is gone."

Þe porter rose anon,
As soon as he heard John cleep.
Littel John ƿas readie ƿið a sƿord,
And stabbed him þruge þe ƿall.

"Nu I am cƿarternkeeper," sagd John,
And took þe kegs in his hands.
He tread þe ƿag to Robin Hood ,
And freed him from his bands.

He gafe Robin a good sƿord,
His head þereƿið to keep.
And þere hƿere þe ƿalls ƿere loƿest,
Anon dune did þeg leap.

Bi þen þe cock began to croƿ,
Þe dag began to spring.
Þe sceriff fund þe cƿarternkeeper ded,
So þe tune bell he did ring.

He made a roop þrugeute all þe tune,
Telling boð geoman and knafe.
Hƿoefer brougt him Robin Hood,
His meed he sculd haf.

"For I dare nefer," sagd þe sceriff,
"Cum before ure king.
For if I do I knoƿ ƿisslie,
Þat he ƿill haf me hang."

Þe sceriff sougt þrugeute all Nottingham,
Boð bi roads and bi styne.
But Robin ƿas in merrie Scerƿood,
As ligt as a leaf on lime.

Þen bespake good Littel John,
To Robin Hood did he sag:
"I haf done þee a good hƿarft from ill,
Meed me hƿen þu mag."

"I haf done þee a good hƿarft,
Forsooð as I nu sag.
I haf brougt þee under þe greenƿood lime.
Fareƿell, and haf good dag."

"Nag, bi mi treƿð," sagd Robin,
"So scall it nefer be.
I make þee þe lord
Of all mi men and me."

"Nag, bi mi treƿð," sagd Littel John,
"So scall it nefer be.
But let me be þi felloƿ,
Noþing else I care to be."

Þus John got Robin ute of cƿartern,
Indeed from þat bane.
Hƿen his men saƿ him hƿole and sund,
Forsooð þeg ƿere full fagn.

Þeg filled in ƿine and ƿere glad,
Under þe leafs of þe dale.
And þeg ate pasties of hartmeat,
Hƿic ƿere good ƿið þeger ale.

Þen ƿord came to þe king
Hu Robin Hood ƿas gone.
And hu þe sceriff of Nottingham
Dared nefer to look him upon.

Þen bespake þe cumlie king
In a ƿrað hige:
"Littel John has sƿiked þe sceriff,
In leaf so has he I."

"Littel John has sƿiked us boð,
And þat full ƿell I see.
Or else þe sceriff of Nottingham
Higelie hung sculd he be."

"I made þem geomen of þe kinsettel,
And gafe þem fee ƿið mi hand.
I gafe þem grið," sagd þe king,
"Þrugeute all merrie England."

"I gafe þem grið," þen sagd þe king,
"I sag, so mut I þee.
Suc a geoman as he is one,
In all England are not þree."

"He is treƿ to his lord,
I sag, bi sƿeet Halloƿ John.
He lufs better Robin Hood
Þen he does us eac one."

"Robin Hood is efer bund to him,
Boð in street and stall.
Speak no more of þis bisiness,
But John has sƿiked us all."

Þus ends þe tale of þe monk
And Robin Hood ƿiss.
God, þat is efer a kinsettelled king,
Bring us all to his bliss.