SHEEP-TENDING; FARMING; PEACE. O, happy plains, remote from war's alarms, And all the ravages of hostile arms! And happy shepherds, who, secure from fear, On open downs preserve your fleecy care! Whose spacious barns groan with increasing store, And whirling flails disjoint the cracking floor! No barbarous soldier, bent on cruel spoil, Spreads desolation o'er your fertile soil; No trampling steed lays waste the ripened grain, Nor crackling fires devour the promised gain No flaming beacons cast their blaze afar, The dreadful signal of invasive war : No trumpet's clangor wounds the mother's ear, And calls the lover from his swooning fair. THE COUNTRY GIRL DESCRIBED; HER HAPPY LOT. What happiness the rural maid attends, In cheerful labor while each day she spends ! She gratefully receives what Heaven has sent, And, rich in poverty, enjoys content; -Such happiness, and such unblemished fame, Ne'er glad the bosom of the courtly dame :She never feels the spleen's imagined pains, Nor melancholy stagnates in her veins; She never loses life in thoughtless ease, Nor on the velvet couch invites disease; Or from the spindle draw the lengthening wool. Tusser's "March's Husbandry." WHITE peason, both good for the pot and the purse, Corn, meadow, and pasture, ask alway good fence.** 1 These extracts are from that rare old Farmer's book, "Tusser's Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry,' first published in England, in Elizabeth's reign, three hundred years ago. The precepts were given in rhyme, so as to be fixed in the memory. 23 St. Gregory's day is the 12th of March; Pasque, or Easter, follows about a month after. 4 Goeler, perhaps 'yellower.' From moon being changed, till past be the prime, To trim up their house, and to furnish their pot. ** Rustic Ballads for March. "ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE." A BALLAD. WHAN shaws been sheene, and shraddes full fayre, The woodweele sang and would not cease, So loud, he wakened Robin Hood, Now, by my faye, said jolly Robin, I'll be wroken on them towe. To-morrow it may be still. Buske ye, bowne ye, my merry men, all, They then cast on their gowns of green, Until they came to the merry green wood A sword and a dagger he wore by his side, And he was clad in his capull hide 1 About the year 1190, in Richard First's reign, were many outlaws, among whom Robin Hood and Little John were most renowned. Robin, says Stowe, 'entertained an hundred tall men, and good archers, with such spoils and thefts as he got, upon whom four hundred (were they ever so strong) durst not give the onset.' He suffered no woman to be molested, sparing poor men's goods, and relieving them with what he got from abbeys and the rich. Maior calls him 'of all theeves the prince and most gentle theef.' The antique spelling of this old English ballad, of uncertain, but quite ancient date, is retained in this first verse. Stand still, master, quoth Little John, And I will go to yond wight yeoman How often send I my men before, It is no cunning a knave to ken, As often words they breeden bale, So they parted Robin and John; The gates he knoweth each one. And Scarlette he was flying afoot For the proud sheriffe with seven score men One shoote now, I will shoote, quoth John, Then John bent up his long bend bow, The bow was made of tender bough, Woe worth, woe worth thee, wicked wood, It had been better of William a Trent Thou shalt be drawn by dale and down, And hanged high on a hill. But thou mayest fail of thy purpose, quoth John, If it be Christ his will. Let us leave talking of Little John, And think of Robin Hood, How he is gone to the wight yeoman, Where under the leaves he stood. I am wilfulle of my way, quo' the yeoman, I '11 lead thee through the wood, said Robin: I seek an outlàwe, the stranger said, Rather I'd meet with that proud outlawe, Than forty pound so good. Now come with me, thou wighty yeoman, First let us some masterye make Among the woods so even ; We may chance to meet with Robin Hood Here at some unsett steven. They cut them down two summer shroggs, Lead on, I do bid thee. Nay, by my faith, good fellow, he said, My leader thou shalt be. The first time Robin shot at the pricke, The yeoman he was an archer good, But he could never do so. The second shoote had the wighty yeoman, But Robin he shot far better than he, A blessing upon thy heart, he said; Good fellow, thy shooting is good; Now tell me thy name, good fellow, said he, Under the leaves of lyne. Nay, by my faith, quoth bold Robin, I dwell by dale and down, quoth he, And when I am called by my right name My dwelling is in this wood, says Robin, I am Robin Hood of Barnesdale, Whom thou so long has sought. He that had neither been kith nor kin To see how these yeomen together they fought Robin was reachles on a root, And stumbled at that tyde; And Guy was quick and nimble withal, Ah, deere Ladye, said Robin Hood, thou I think it was never man's destinye Robin thought on our Ladye deere, And soon leapt up again; And straight he came with a backward stroke, And he Sir Guy hath slayne. He took Sir Guy's head by the hair, And stuck it upon his bow's end : And nicked Sir Guy in the face, Says, Lie there, lie there, now, If thou have had the worst strokes at my hand, Thy bow, thy arrows, and little horn, To see how my men do fare. Robin Hood set Guy's horn to his mouth, Hearken, hearken, said the sheriff, I hear now tidings good, For yonder I hear Sir Guy's horn blow, Yonder I hear Sir Guy's horn blow, It blows so well in tyde; And yonder comes that wightye yeoman, Come hither, come hither, thou good Sir Guy; Ask what thou wilt of me. o I will none of thy gold, said Robin, But now I have slain the master, he says, Thou art a madman, said the sheriff, Thou shouldst have had a knight's fee: But seeing thy asking has been so bad, Well granted it shall be. When Little John heard his master speak, Fast Robin he hied him to Little John, Stand aback, stand aback, said Robin, But Robin pulled forth an Irish knife, Then John he took Guy's bow in his hand, Towards his house in Nottingham town He fled full fast away: And so did all the company : Not one behind would stay. ** GLOSSARY. Shaws, groves; sheene, shining, in best array; woodweele, woodwale; faye, faith; sweaven, dream; wighty, stalwart, active; froe, from; wroken, revenged; bowne, get ready; yond, yonder; had gladdest, were most glad, had far rather; ware, aware; capull hyde, horse-hide; top, tayl, and mayne, from top to toe; farley, strange; an, if; bale, misfortune, trouble; gates, ways, paths, passes; slade, slaughter; stocke, bush; wends, goes; fain, willing; worth, betide; boote, good, good luck, cause of joy, help; wilful, mistrustful; quo', said; tyde, time, season; masterye, trial of skill; unsett steven, without previous appointment; breere, brier; prickes, pointed weapons; y-fere, together, in company; prick-wande, peeled twig or rod set up for a mark; lyne, linden, lime-tree; kith, relation; fayre, fair; reachles, reckless, careless, unmindful; may, maiden; nicked, gashed; knave, man, serving-man; blive, belike, you may well believe, forthwith. DRAYTON'S "ROBIN IN SHERWOOD." In this our spacious isle, I think there is not one, But he hath heard some talk of him and Little John; And to the end of time the tale shall ne'er be done, Of Scarlock, George-a-Green, and Much the Miller's son, Of Tuck the merry friar, which many a sermon made In praise of Robin Hood, his outlaws, and their trade. An hundred valiant men had this same Robin Hood, Still ready at his call, that bowmen were right good, All clad in Lincoln green, with caps of red and blue; His fellows' winded horn, not one of them but knew, When setting to their lips their little beugles shrill, The warbling echoes waked from every dale and hill: Their bauldrichs set with studs, athwart their shoul[fast, To which under their arms their sheafs were buckled A short sword at their belt, a buckler scarce a span, Who struck below the knee, not counted they a man; All made of Spanish yew, their bows were wondrous strong, ders cast, They not an arrow shot, but was as a cloth-yard long. Their arrows finely paired for timber and for feather, pile, The loose gave such a twang, as might be heard a Goldsmith's "Deserted Village." THE VILLAGE OF AUBURN IN ITS PROSPERITY. SWEET Auburn! loveliest village of the plain, Where health and plenty cheered the laboring swain, Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed. Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, How often have I loitered o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene! How often have I paused on every charm, The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm, The never-failing brook, the busy mill, The decent church that topt the neighboring hill, The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, For talking age and whispering lovers made! VILLAGE PASTIMES; DANCING; SPORTIVE INNOCENCE. With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please; The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest; And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall; And, trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand, Far, far away, thy children leave the land. WEALTH OF LESS VALUE THAN A HAPPY, MANLY PEASANTRY; Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, A time there was, ere England's griefs began, But times are altered; trade's unfeeling train Usurp the land and dispossess the swain; Along the lawn, where scattered hamlets rose, Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose; And every want to luxury allied, And every pang that folly pays to pride. These gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom, Those calm desires that asked but little room, Those healthful sports that graced the peaceful scene, Lived in each look, and brightened all the green; These, far departing, seek a kinder shore, And rural mirth and manners are no more. REMINISCENCES AND DISAPPOINTMENT. Sweet Auburn! parent of the blissful hour, Amidst thy tangling walks, and ruined grounds, In all my wanderings round this world of care, I still had hopes, my long vexations past, Here to return and die at home at last. |