{"collection":"Northern European Mythology","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/neu/eng/child/ch080.htm","path":"neu/eng/child/ch080.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/child/ch080.htm","text":"80.1 GOD let neuer soe old a man\nMarry soe yonge a wiffe\nAs did Old Robin of Portingale;\nHe may rue all the dayes of his liffe.\n80.2 Ffor the maiors daughter of Lin, God wott,\nHe chose her to his wife,\nAnd thought to haue liued in quiettnesse\nWith her all the dayes of his liffe.\n80.3 They had not in their wed-bed laid,\nScarcly were both on sleepe,\nBut vpp shee rose, and forth shee goes\nTo Sir Gyles, and fast can weepe.\n80.4 Saies, Sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles?\nOr be not you within?\n. . . . .\n. . . . .\n80.5 \u2018But I am waking, sweete,\u2019 he said,\n\u2018Lady, what is your will?\u2019\n\u2018I haue vnbethought me of a wile,\nHow my wed lord we shall spill.\n80.6 \u2018Four and twenty knights,\u2019 she sayes,\n\u2019That dwells about this towne,\nEene four and twenty of my next cozens,\nWill helpe to dinge him downe.\u2019\n80.7 With that beheard his litle foote-page,\nAs he was watering his masters steed;\nSoe s . . . . .\nHis verry heart did bleed.\n80.8 He mourned, sikt, and wept full sore;\nI sweare by the holy roode,\nThat teares he for his master wept\nWere blend water and bloude.\n80.9 With that beheard his deare master,\nAs [he] in his garden sate;\nSays, Euer alacke, my litle page,\nWhat causes thee to weepe?\n80.10 \u2018Hath any one done to thee wronge,\nAny of thy fellowes here?\nOr is any of thy good friends dead,\nWhich makes thee shed such teares?\n80.11 \u2018Or if it be my head-kookes-man,\nGreiued againe he shalbe,\nNor noe man within my howse\nShall doe wrong vnto thee.\u2019\n80.12 \u2018But it is not your head-kookes-man,\nNor none of his degree;\nBut [f]or to morrow, ere it be noone,\nYou are deemed to die.\n80.13 \u2018And of that thanke your head-steward,\nAnd after, your gay ladie:\u2019\n\u2018If it be true, my litle foote-page,\nIle make thee heyre of all my land.\u2019\n80.14 \u2018If it be not true, my deare master,\nGod let me neuer thye:\u2019\n\u2018If it be not true, thou litle foot-page,\nA dead corse shalt thou be.\u2019\n80.15 He called downe his head-kookes-man,\nCooke in kitchen super to dresse:\n\u2018All and anon, my deare master,\nAnon att your request.\u2019\n80.16 . . . . .\n. . . . .\n\u2018And call you downe my faire lady,\nThis night to supp with mee.\u2019\n80.17 And downe then came that fayre lady,\nWas cladd all in purple and palle;\nThe rings that were vpon her fingers\nCast light thorrow the hall.\n80.18 \u2018What is your will, my owne wed lord,\nWhat is your will with mee?\u2019\n\u2018I am sicke, fayre lady,\nSore sicke, and like to dye.\u2019\n80.19 \u2018But and you be sicke, my owne wed lord,\nSoe sore it greiueth mee;\nBut my fiue maydens and my selfe\nWill goe and make your bedd.\n80.20 \u2019!and at the wakening of your first sleepe\nYou shall haue a hott drinke made,\nAnd at the wakening of your next sleepe\nYour sorrowes will haue a slake.\u2019\n80.21 He put a silke cote on his backe,\nWas thirteen inches folde,\nAnd put a steele cap vpon his head,\nWas gilded with good red gold.\n80.22 And he layd a bright browne sword by his side,\nAnd another att his feete,\nAnd full well knew Old Robin then\nWhether he shold wake or sleepe.\n80.23 And about the middle time of the night\nCame twenty four good knights in;\nSir Gyles he was the formost man,\nSoe well he knew that ginne.\n80.24 Old Robin, with a bright browne sword,\nSir Gyles head he did winne;\nSoe did he all those twenty four,\nNeuer a one went quicke out [agen].\n80.25 None but one litle foot-page,\nCrept forth at a window of stone,\nAnd he had two armes when he came in,\nAnd [when he went out he had none].\n80.26 Vpp then came that ladie light,\nWith torches burning bright;\nShee thought to haue brought Sir Gyles a drinke,\nBut shee found her owne wedd knight.\n80.27 And the first thinge that this ladye stumbled vpon\nWas of Sir Gyles his foote;\nSayes, Euer alacke, and woe is me,\nHere lyes my sweete hart-roote!\n80.28 And the second thing that this ladie stumbled on\nWas of Sir Gyles his head;\nSayes, Euer alacke, and woe is me,\nHeere lyes my true-loue deade!\n80.29 Hee cutt the papps beside he[r] brest,\nAnd bad her wish her will;\nAnd he cutt the eares beside her heade,\nAnd bade her wish on still.\n80.30 \u2018Mickle is the mans blood I haue spent,\nTo doe thee and me some good;\u2019\nSayes, Euer alacke, my fayre lady,\nI think that I was woode!\n80.31 He calld then vp his litle foote-page,\nAnd made him heyre of all his land,\n. . . . .\n. . . . .\n80.32 And he shope the crosse in his right sholder,\nOf the white flesh and the redd,\nAnd he went him into the holy land,\nWheras Christ was quicke and dead.","title":"The Child Ballads: 80. Old Robin of Portingale","type":"page"}