by Homer
And ever he cleved the wande, 190
And so dyde good Gylberte
With the whytë hande.
Lytell Johan and good Scathelocke,
For nothynge wolde they spare;
When they fayled of the garlonde, 195
Robyn smote them full sore.
At the last shot that Robyn shot,
For all his frendës fare,
Yet he fayled of the garlonde
Thre fyngers and mare. 200
Than bespake good Gylberte,
And thus he gan say;
‘Mayster,’ he sayd, ‘your takyll is lost,
Stande forth and take your pay.’
‘If it be so,’ sayd Robyn, 205
‘That may no better be,
Syr abbot, I delyver the myn arowe,
I pray the, syr, serve thou me.’
‘It falleth not for myn ordre,’ sayd our kynge,
‘Robyn, by thy leve, 210
For to smyte no good yeman,
For doute I sholde hym greve.’
‘Smyte on boldely,’ sayd Robyn,
‘I give the largë leve’:
Anone our kynge, with that worde, 215
He folde up his sleve.
And sych a buffet he gave Robyn,
To grounde he yede full nere:
‘I make myn avowe to God,’ sayd Robyn,
‘Thou arte a stalworthe frere. 220
‘There is pith in thyn arme,’ sayd Robyn,
‘I trowe thou canst well shete’;
Thus our kynge and Robyn Hode
Togeder gan they mete.
Robyn behelde our comly kynge 225
Wystly in the face,
So dyde Syr Rycharde at the Le,
And kneled downe in that place.
And so dyde all the wylde outlawes,
Whan they se them knele: 230
‘My lorde the kynge of Englonde,
Now I knowe you well.’
‘Mercy then, Robyn,’ sayd our kynge,
‘Under your trystyll-tre,
Of thy goodnesse and thy grace, 235
For my men and me!’
‘Yes, for God,’ sayd Robyn,
‘And also God me save,
I aske mercy, my lorde the knyge,
And for my men I crave.’ 240
‘Yes, for God,’ than sayd our kynge,
‘And therto sent I me,
With that thou leve the grene-wode,
And all thy company;
‘And come home, syr, to my courte, 245
And there dwell with me.’
‘I make myn avowe to God,’ sayd Robyn,
‘And ryght so shall it be.
‘I wyll come to your courte,
Your servyse for to se, 250
And brynge with me of my men
Seven score and thre.
‘But me lyke well your servyse,
I wyll come agayne full soone,
And shote at the donnë dere, 255
As I am wonte to done.’
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
The Eighth Fytte
‘Haste thou ony grene cloth,’ sayd our kynge,
‘That thou wylte sell nowe to me?’
‘Ye, for God,’ sayd Robyn,
‘Thyrty yerdes and thre.’
‘Robyn,’ sayd our kynge, 5
‘Now pray I the,
Sell me some of that cloth,
To me and my meynë.’
‘Yes, for God,’ then sayd Robyn,
‘Or elles I were a fole; 10
Another day ye wyll me clothe,
I trowe, ayenst the Yole.’
The kynge kest of his cole then,
A grene garment he dyde on,
And every knyght also, iwys, 15
Another had full sone.
Whan they were clothed in Lyncolne grene,
They keste away theyr graye;
‘Now we shall to Notyngham,’
All thus our kynge gan say. 20
They bente theyr bowes and forth they went,
Shotynge all in-fere,
Towarde the towne of Notyngham,
Outlawes as they were.
Our kynge and Robyn rode togyder, 25
For soth as I you say,
And they shote plucke-buffet,
As they went by the way.
And many a buffet our kynge wan
Of Robyn Hode that day, 30
And nothynge spared good Robyn
Our kynge when he did pay.
‘So God me helpë,’ sayd our kynge,
‘Thy game is nought to lere;
I sholde not get a shote of the, 35
Though I shote all this yere.’
All the people of Notyngham
They stode and behelde;
They sawe nothynge but mantels of grene
That covered all the felde. 40
Than every man to other gan say,
‘I drede our kynge be slone ;
Come Robyn Hode to the towne, i-wys
On lyve he lefte never one.’
Full hastely they began to fle, 45
Both yemen and knaves,
And olde wyves that myght evyll goo,
They hypped on theyr staves.
The kynge loughe full fast,
And commaunded theym agayne; 50
When they se our comly kynge,
I-wys they were full fayne.
They ete and dranke, and made them glad,
And sange with notës hye;
Than bespake our comly kynge 55
To Syr Richarde at the Lee.
He gave hym there his londe agayne,
A good man he bad hym be;
Robyn thanked our comly kynge,
And set hym on his kne. 60
Had Robyn dwelled in the kynges courte
But twelve monethes and thre,
That he had spent an hondred pounde,
And all his mennes fe.
In every place where Robyn came 65
Ever more he layde downe,
Both for knyghtës and for squyres,
To gete hym grete renowne.
By than the yere was all agone
He had no man but twayne, 70
Lytell Johan and good Scathelocke,
With hym all for to gone.
Robyn sawe yonge men shote
Full faire upon a day;
‘Alas!’ than sayd good Robyn, 75
‘My welthe is went away.
‘Somtyme I was an archere good,
A styffe and eke a stronge;
I was compted the best archere
That was in mery Englonde. 80
‘Alas!’ then sayd good Robyn,
‘Alas and well a woo!
Yf I dwele lenger with the kynge,
Sorowe wyll me sloo.’
Forth than went Robyn Hode 85
Tyll he came to our kynge:
‘My lorde the kynge of Englonde,
Graunte me myn askynge.
‘I made a chapell in Bernysdale,
That semely is to se, 90
It is of Mary Magdaleyne,
And thereto wolde I be.
‘I myght never in this seven nyght
No tyme to slepe ne wynke,
Nother all these seven dayes 95
Nother ete ne drynke.
‘Me longeth sore to Bernysdale,
I may not be therfro;
Barefote and wolwarde I have hyght
Thyder for to go.’ 100
‘Yf it be so,’ than sayd our kynge,
‘It may no better be;
Seven nyght I gyve the leve,
No lengre, to dwell fro me.’
‘Gramercy, lorde,’ then sayd Robyn, 105
And set hym on his kne;
He toke his leve full courteysly,
To grene wode then went he.
Whan he came to grene wode,
In a mery mornynge,
110
There he herde the notës small
Of byrdës mery syngynge.
‘It is ferre gone,’ sayd Robyn,
‘That I was last here;
Me lyste a lytell for to shote 115
At the donnë dere.’
Robyn slewe a full grete harte;
His horne than gan he blow,
That all the outlawes of that forest
That horne coud they knowe, 120
And gadred them togyder,
In a lytell throwe.
Seven score of wyght yonge men
Came redy on a rowe,
And fayre dyde of theyr hodes, 125
And set them on theyr kne:
‘Welcome,’ they sayd, ‘our mayster,
Under this grene-wode tre.’
Robyn dwelled in grene wode
Twenty yere and two; 130
For all drede of Edwarde our kynge,
Agayne wolde he not goo.
Yet he was begyled, i-wys,
Through a wycked woman,
The pryoresse of Kyrkësly, 135
That nye was of hys kynne:
For the love of a knyght,
Syr Roger of Donkesly,
That was her ownë speciall;
Full evyll mote they the! 140
They toke togyder theyr counsell
Robyn Hode for to sle,
And how they myght best do that dede,
His banis for to be.
Than bespake good Robyn, 145
In place where as he stode,
‘Tommorow I muste to Kyrke[s]ly,
Craftely to be leten blode.’
Syr Roger of Donkestere,
By the pryoresse he lay, 150
And there they betrayed good Robyn Hode,
Through theyr falsë playe.
Cryst have mercy on his soule,
That dyed on the rode!
For he was a good outlawe, 155
And dyde pore men moch god.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Renaissance Poets
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Sir Thomas Wyatt
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
A Supplication
Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503–1542)
FORGET not yet the tried intent
Of such a truth as I have meant;
My great travail so gladly spent,
Forget not yet!
Forget not yet when first began 5
The weary life ye know, since whan
The suit, the service none tell can;
Forget not yet!
Forget not yet the great assays,
The cruel wrong, the scornful ways, 10
The painful patience in delays,
Forget not yet!
Forget not! O, forget not this,
How long ago hath been, and is
The mind that never meant amiss — 15
Forget not yet!
Forget not then thine own approved
The which so long hath thee so loved,
Whose steadfast faith yet never moved —
Forget not this! 20
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
The Lover’s Appeal
Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503–1542)
AND wilt thou leave me thus!
Say nay! say nay! for shame!
To save thee from the blame
Of all my grief and grame.
And wilt thou leave me thus? 5
Say nay! say nay!
And wilt thou leave me thus,
That hath loved thee so long
In wealth and woe among:
And is thy heart so strong 10
As for to leave me thus?
Say nay! say nay!
And wilt thou leave me thus,
That hath given thee my heart
Never for to depart 15
Neither for pain nor smart:
And wilt thou leave me thus?
Say nay! say nay!
And wilt thou leave me thus,
And have no more pity 20
Of him that loveth thee?
Alas! thy cruelty!
And wilt thou leave me thus?
Say nay! say nay!
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Complaint of the Absence of Her Lover Being upon the Sea
Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey (1517–1547)
O HAPPY dames! that may embrace
The fruit of your delight,
Help to bewail the woful case
And eke the heavy plight
Of me, that wonted to rejoice 5
The fortune of my pleasant choice:
Good ladies, help to fill my mourning voice.
In ship, freight with rememberance
Of thoughts and pleasures past,
He sails that hath in governance 10
My life while it will last:
With scalding sighs, for lack of gale,
Furthering his hope, that is his sail,
Toward me, the swete port of his avail.
Alas! how oft in dreams I see 15
Those eyes that were my food;
Which sometime so delighted me,
That yet they do me good:
Wherewith I wake with his return
Whose absent flame did make me burn: 20
But when I find the lack, Lord! how I mourn!
When other lovers in arms across
Rejoice their chief delight,
Drownèd in tears, to mourn my loss
I stand the bitter night 25
In my window where I may see
Before the winds how the clouds flee:
Lo! what a mariner love hath made me!
And in green waves when the salt flood
Doth rise by rage of wind, 30
A thousand fancies in that mood
Assail my restless mind.
Alas! now drencheth my sweet foe,
That with the spoil of my heart did go,
And left me; but alas! why did he so? 35
And when the seas wax calm again
To chase fro me annoy,
My doubtful hope doth cause me pain;
So dread cuts off my joy.
Thus in my wealth mingled with woe 40
And of each thought a doubt doth grow;
— Now he comes! Will he come? Alas! no, no.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
The Means to Attain Happy Life
Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey (1517–1547)
MARTIAL, the things that do attain
The happy life be these, I find: —
The richesse left, not got with pain;
The fruitful ground, the quiet mind;
The equal friend; no grudge, no strife; 5
No charge of rule, nor governance;
Without disease, the healthful life;
The household of continuance;
The mean diet, no delicate fare;
True wisdom join’d with simpleness; 10
The night dischargèd of all care,
Where wine the wit may not oppress.
The faithful wife, without debate;
Such sleeps as may beguile the night:
Contented with thine own estate 15
Ne wish for death, ne fear his might.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
A Complaint by Night of the Lover not beloved
ALAS! so all things now do hold their peace!
Heaven and earth disturbed
in no thing;
The beasts, the air, the birds their song do cease,
The nightès car the stars about doth bring.
Calm is the sea; the waves work less and less: 5
So am not I, whom love, alas! doth wring,
Bringing before my face the great increase
Of my desires, whereat I weep and sing,
In joy and woe, as in a doubtful ease.
For my sweet thoughts sometime do pleasure bring; 10
But by and by, the cause of my disease
Gives me a pang, that inwardly doth sting,
When that I think what grief it is again,
To live and lack the thing should rid my pain.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
George Gascoigne
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
A Lover’s Lullaby
George Gascoigne (1525–1577)
SING lullaby, as women do,
Wherewith they bring their babes to rest;
And lullaby can I sing too,
As womanly as can the best.
With lullaby they still the child; 5
And if I be not much beguiled,
Full many a wanton babe have I,
Which must be still’d with lullaby.
