The following excellent ballad has been collected from the disjecta membra of the forest minstrelsy of the High Peak, and arranged in its present form, by my friend Mr. William Bennett, of Chapel-en-le-Frith. Mr. Bennett considers, and with good reason, that it has originally formed two distinct ballads, one relating to a contention and fight between Robin Hood and the keepers of Peak Forest, and the other to a match with the long-bow between him and the Foresters. This ballad has been printed in "The Reliquary," vol. I., page 101.
'Tis merry in the high Peak Forest,
Out upon the lea;
'Tis merry in the shady frith,
Where birds are whistling free:
The heather blooms on Lady low;
O'er Combs[21] the wind blows dree;
And the dappled deer are feeding there,
Under the Greenwood tree.
"Now why amort, bold Robin Hood!
And a buck so near at hand:
'Tis easier far to cleave his crown
Than a peeled willow wand.
A nobler herd ne'er saw I run,
Three hundred head and mo:
The King won't miss a hart o' grease,
If thou use thy good yew bow."
"My bow's unstrung, Brian the Bearward!
So much the worse for thee:
Thou elder likest the twang of the string,
Than the deftest minstrelsy:
Thou prizest the swish of an arrow keen,
When the mark is a buck of head;
And liefer than tripping o'er the sward,
Thou wouldst see the Quarry dead."
"Ay, dead and buried," quoth the Bearward,
"In the grave of a venison pie:
And so wouldst thou, or men thee wrong;
For all thou talk'st so high:
But if thou durst not fly a shaft,
As well as I would fly mine,
Tend thou my bear, and lend thy bow;
I'll swop my trade for thine."
The Bearward strung the bow and shot
Four hundred feet him fro:
And hit a good fat buck, which fell,
Nor lack'd a second blow.
"Well shot, shot well," bold Robin cried,
"Thou'rt of the greenwood free;
At stable stand, or wanlass drift,
Thou need'st no lere from me."
Then they were ware of six wight yeomen,
That lusty were, and tall,
Come marching up from Fairfield[22] side,
Beneath the archer's wall;
All clad in Lincoln green were they;
And on their right arms wore
A silver shield, which, in its field,
A lion passant bore.
"Good morrow, good fellows!" the foremost said,
"You are got to work eftsoon,
I pray do you hold of the crown in chief,
Or follow the Lady Moon?
Of stout King Richard the lion's heart
Ye should be liegemen good,
To break his laws, and kill his deer,
Within his own greenwood."
"Thou liest now, thou proud spoken keeper!
Forever I say thou dost lie:
Neither forest walk, nor deer are the King's,
As I will well abye.
To John of Mortaigne, the deer belong;
To John of Mortaigne and me;
And my share I'll take, when it me lists,
Despite of him or thee."
"Why who art thou, thou bold tongued traitor!
That durst thus mate with me;
And claim one half of the Prince's deer,
Despite of his sovereignty?
I trou thou'rt one of the Bearward's men,
By keeping his company;
And I'll make thee dance like a bear from France,
If thy tongue not the kinder be."