His name is Arthur-a-Bland ;

There is nere a squire in Not­ting­ham­shire

Dare bid bold Arthur stand. {182}

With a long pike-staff upon his shouldèr,

So well he can clear his way ;

By two and by three he makes them to flee,

For he hath no list to stay.

And as he went forth, in a summers morning,

Into the ‘forrest of merry’ Sherwood,

To view the red deer, that range here and there,