The peasant's sweetheart jilts the swain;
And those who stay, and these who rove,
Seek bands for woman's heart in vain.
"Rank, wealth, prosperity, and power,
Have all been tried, without avail;
Yet ne'er in dark misfortune's hour,
Has woman's love been known to fail."
So sung, or rather hummed, the bold forester, as he walked to and fro along the sandy path; and, as is very often the case, the song seemed the most convincing argument he could use, for it concluded the discussion with himself concerning young Harland, and he turned his thoughts to other things again.
"They will take him by surprise," he muttered to himself in the same low tone as before; and then having uttered this vaticination, he relapsed into silence, took another turn, and said--"The King at Cambridge?--That cannot be for nothing: he has misled De Montfort--Gloucester fortifying his castles too--that looks ill! He is not to be trusted, Gloucester. He never was--he never will be.--Hark! a horse's feet! Here come the Earls!"
Another moment, however, showed him that he was mistaken, for the horse whose tramp he heard came from the side of Nottingham, and not from that of Yorkshire. The animal itself was a good brown gelding, with a short tail, which, in those days, was a rarity, for many of the barbarous customs of the present time were then unknown. Indeed, though it may seem a contradiction in terms, civilization in general has not a little barbarism in it, and luxury is always sure to introduce practices of which savages would be ashamed. The horse, however, as I have said, was a good brown gelding with a short tail; the man that bestrode it, a jolly, large-stomached personage, in the garb of a tradesman; and the moment the forester saw him, he exclaimed, "Ha! our good friend the sutler of Southwell! What makes you ride the forest, Barnaby? You do not trouble Sherwood for nothing."