And when he came to the ladies chamber, He thrild upon a pinn.* The lady was true of her promise, Rose up and lett him in. He did not take the lady gaye To boulster nor to bed: 'Nor thoughe hee had his wicked wille, He did not kisse that ladyes mouthe, He was of some churls bloud. 40 45 But home then came that lither ladd, And did off his hose and shoone; 50 Awake, awake, my deere master, I hold it time to be gone. 55 This is elsewhere expressed twirled the pin' or 'tirled at the pin' [See B. II. S. VI. v. 3.] and seems to refer to the turning round the button on the outside of a door, by which the latch rises, still used in cottages. For I have saddled your horsse, mastèr, And I have served you a good breakfast: Up then rose, good Glasgeriòn, And did on hose and shoone; And cast a coller about his necke: For he was a kinge his sonne. 60 And when he came to the ladyes chamber, 65 He thrild upon the pinne: The ladye was more than true of promise, And rose and let him inn. Saies, whether have you left with me Your bracelett or your glove? Or are you returned backe againe To know more of my love? Glasgèrion swore a full great othe, Lady, I was never in your chamber, Sith the time that I was borne. O then it was your lither foot-page, He hath beguiled mee. Then shee pulled forth a litle pen-kniffe, That hanged by her knee: Ver. 77. litle, MS. 70 75 80 Sayes, there shall never noe churlès blood Within my bodye spring: No churles blood shall ever defile Home then went Glasgèrion, And woe, good lord, was hee. Sayes, come thou hither, Jacke my boy, 85 If I had killed a man to night, Jacke, I would tell it thee: 90 But if I have not killed a man to night, 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. LET never again soe old a man As did old Robin of Portingale ; Who may rue all the dayes of his life. For the mayors daughter of Lin, god wott, And thought with her to have lived in love, But they fell to hate and strife. 5 They scarce were in their wed-bed laid, 10 But upp shee rose, and forth shee goes, Sleepe you, wake you, faire sir Gyles? Sleepe you, wake you, faire sir Gyles, Arise and let me inn. 15 O, I am waking, sweete, he said, Twenty-four good knights, shee sayes, All that beheard his litle footepage, 25 As he watered his masters steed; And for his masters sad perille His very heart did bleed. He mourned still, and wept full sore; 30 I sweare by the holy roode The teares he for his master wept Were blent water and bloude. And that beheard his deare mastèr As he stood at his garden pale: Sayes, Ever alacke, my litle foot-page, 35 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 Ver. 19. unbethought, [properly onbethought] this word is still used in the Midland counties in the same sense as bethought. Ver. 32. blend, MS. |