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,
'A single word he sed.'

He did not kisse that ladyes mouthe,
Nor when he came, nor youd:
And sore mistrusted that ladye gay,

He was of some churls bloud.

40

45

But home then came that lither ladd,

And did off his hose and shoone;
And cast the coller from off his necke:
He was but a churlès sonne.

50

Awake, awake, my deere master,
The cock hath well-nigh crowen.
Awake, awake, my master deere,

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,
Well bridled I have your steede :

And I have served you a good breakfast:
For thereof ye have need.

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,
By oake, and ashe, and thorne ;

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
The daughter of a kinge.

Home then went Glasgèrion,

And woe, good lord, was hee.

Sayes, come thou hither, Jacke my boy,
Come hither unto mee.

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
Marrye soe yonge a wife,

As did old Robin of Portingale ;

Who may rue all the dayes of his life.

For the mayors daughter of Lin, god wott,
He chose her to his wife,

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,
And scarce was hee asleepe,

10

But upp shee rose, and forth shee goes,
To the steward, and gan to weepe.

Sleepe you, wake you, faire sir Gyles?
Or be you not within?

Sleepe you, wake you, faire sir Gyles,

Arise and let me inn.

15

O, I am waking, sweete, he said,
Sweete ladye, what is your will ?
I have unbethought me of a wile
How my wed-lord weell spill.

Twenty-four good knights, shee sayes,
That dwell about this towne,
Even twenty-four of my next cozèns,
Will helpe to dinge him downe.

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,
What causes thee to wail ?

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.