Robin Hood's Death and Burial.

SHOWING HOW HE WAS TAKEN ILL, AND HOW HE WENT TO HIS COUSIN AT KIRKLEY HALL, WHO LET HIM BLOOD, WHICH WAS THE CAUSE OF HIS DEATH.

Tune of Robin Hood's last farewell, &c.

['This very old and curious piece is preserved solely in the editions of Robin Hood's Garland,' printed at York, (or such as have been taken from them,) where it is made to conclude with some foolish lines, (adopted from the London copy of a ballad, entitled Robin Hood the Valiant Knight,') in order to introduce the epitaph. It is here given from a collation of two different copies, containing numerous variations, a few of which are retained in the notes at foot.'-RITSON.]

There is an account of Robin Hood's death, which differs materially from this, given in the ballad just alluded to, which states that the hero being taken ill after his conflict with the valiant knight,

"He sent for a monk, to let him blood,

Who took his life away."

WHEN Robin Hood and Little John
Went o'er yon bank of broom,
Said Robin Hood to Little John

We have shot for many a pound.

But I am not able to shoot one shot more,
My arrows will not flee;

But I have a cousin lives down below,
Please God, she will bleed me.

Now Robin is to fair Kirkley gonc,

As fast as he can win;

But before he came there, as we do hear,

He was taken very ill.

And when that he came to fair Kirkley-hall,

He knockt all at the ring,

But none was so ready as his cousin herself

For to let bold Robin in.

Will you please to sit down, cousin Robin, said she,

And drink some beer with me?

No, I will neither sit nor drink,

Till I am blooded by thee.

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Well, I have a room, cousin Robin, she said,

Which you never did see,

And if you please to walk therein,

You blooded by me shall be.

She took him by the lilly-white hand,
And led him to a private room,
And there she blooded bold Robin Hood,
Whilst one drop of blood would run.

She blooded him in the vein of the arm,
And lockt him up in the room;

There did he bleed all the live-long day,
Until the next day at noon.

He then bethought him of a casement door,
Thinking for to be gone;

He was so weak he could not leap,
Nor he could not get down.

He then bethought him of his bugle-horn,
Which hung low down to his knee;

He set his horn unto his mouth,

And blew out weak blasts three.

Then Little John, when hearing him,

As he sat under the tree,

I fear my master is near dead,
He blows so wearily.

Then Little John to fair Kirkley is gone,

As fast as he can dree;

But when he came to Kirkley-hall,

He broke locks two or three;

Untill he came bold Robin to,
Then he fell on his knee;

A boon, a boon, cries Little John,
Master, I beg of thee.

What is that boon, quoth Robin Hood,
Little John, then begs of me?

It is to burn fair Kirkley-hall,

And all their nunnery.

Now nay, now nay, quoth Robin Hood,
That boon I'll not grant thee;
I never hurt woman in all my life,
Nor man in woman's company.

I never hurt fair maid in all my time,

Nor at my end shall it be;

But give me bent bow in my hand,
And a broad arrow I'll let flee;
And where this arrow is taken up
There shall my grave digged be.

Lay me a green sod under my head,
And another at my feet,

And lay my bent bow by my side,
Which was my music sweet;
And make my grave of gravel and green,
Which is most right and meet.

Let me have length and breadth enough,
With a green sod under my head;
That they may say, when I am dead,
Here lies bold Robin Hood.

These words they readily promised him,
Which did bold Robin please:
And there they buried bold Robin Hood,
Near to the fair Kirkleys.

[St. 15 is omitted in one edition.

St. 17, line 3, 4:

With verdant sods most neatly put,

Sweet as the green wood tree.

St. 18, line 2. This line is manifestly impertinent and corrupt. We might read

With a stone upon the sod.

RITSON.}

[This ballad is taken, by permission of J. O. Halliwell, Esq., from the reprint, edited by him for the Percy Society, of one of the only two copies that have been preserved, contained in a MS. of the time of Charles II., in the possession of Mr. Bateman. The other copy is preserved in MS. Harl. 367, and appears to have been transcribed about the year 1600. The title, as given by Mr. Halliwell, is, 'The most pleasant Song of Lady Bessy, the eldest daughter of King Edward the Fourth, and how she married King Henry the Seventh, of the House of Lancaster.' It appears,' says Mr. Halliwell, that the poem was composed by Bessy's true esquire,' Humphrey Brereton, who was in the service of Lord Stanley. At all events, its antiquity is satisfactorily proved by the multiplicity of those minute traits of language and manners, which must have been forgotten by a more recent writer. The peculiar features of the age, the costume, and the difficulty of correspondence, are too faithfully described to leave any reasonable doubt of the early period of the author. For all the known particulars respecting Elizabeth of York, we follow Mr. Halliwell's example in referring the reader to Sir H. Nicolas' Memoir prefixed to 'Privy Purse Expenses of Elizabeth of York,' 8vo, 1830; and Miss Strickland's 'Lives of the Queens of England,' vol. 4.]

I shall tell you how Lady Bessy made her moan,
And down she kneeled upon her knee
Before the Earle of Darby her self alone,

These were her words fair and free:-
Who was your beginner, who was your ground,
Good father Stanley, will you tell me?
Who married you to the Margaret Richmond,
A Dutchess of a high degree?

And your son the Lord George Strange
By that good lady you had him by.
And Harden lands under your hands,
And Moules dale also under your fee,
Your brother Sir William Stanley by parliament
The Holt Castle who gave him truely?
Who gave him Brome-field, that I now ment?
Who gave him Chirk-land to his fee?
Who made him High Chamberlain of Cheshire?
Of that country farr and near
They were all wholly at his desire,
When he did call they did appear;
And also the Forrest of Delameer,

To hunt therin both day and night
As often as his pleasure were,

And to send for baron and knight; Who made the knight and lord of all? Good father Stanley, remember thee! It was my father, that king royall,

He set you in that room so high.
Remember Richmond banished full bare,
And lyeth in Brittain behind the sea,
You may recover him of his care,

If your heart and mind to him will gree:
Let him come home and claim his right,
And let us cry him King Henry!
And if you will maintain him with might,
In Brittain he needeth not long to tarry.
Go away, Bessy, the Lord said then,

I tell thee, now, for certainty,

That fair words make oft fooles full faine,
When they be but found vain glory.
Oh! father Stanley, to you I call,

For the love of God remember thee,

Since my father King Edward, that king royall
At Westminster on his death bed lee;

He called to him my unckle Richard,
So he did Robert of Brackenbury,
And James Terrill he was the third;