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“Well, I have a room, cousin Robin,' she said,

'Which you did never see, And if you please to walk therein,

You blooded by me shall be.'

She took him by the lily-white hand,

And led him to a private room,
And there she blooded bold Robin Hood,

Whilst one drop of blood would run.

She blooded him in the vein of the arm,

And locked him up in the room ; There did he bleed all the live-long day,

Until the next day at noon.

He then bethought him of a casement door,

Thinking for to be gone;
He was so weak he could not leap,

Nor he could not get down.

He then bethought him of his bugle-horn,

Which hung low down to his knee; He set his horn unto his mouth,

And blew out weak blasts three.

Then Little John, when hearing him,

As he sat under the tree, 'I fear my master is near dead,

He blows so wearily.'

Then Little John to fair Kirkley is gone,

As fast as he can dri'e ;
But when he came to Kirkley-hall,

He broke locks two or three :

Until he came bold Robin to,

Then he fell on his knee : A boon, a boon,' cries Little John, "Master, I beg of thee.'

• What is that boon,' quoth Robin Hood,

‘Little John, thou begs of me?' "It is to burn fair Kirkley-hall,

And all their nunnery.'

Nor maurt woman in grant thee Hood,

“Now nay, now nay,' quoth Robin Hood,

'That boon I 'll not grant thee; I never hurt woman in all my life,

Nor man in woman's company. 'I never hurt fair maid in all my time,

Nor at my end shall it be ; But give me my bent bow in my hand,

And a broad arrow I'll let flee ; And where this arrow is taken up,

There shall my grave digg'd be.

"Lay me a green sod under my head,

And another at my feet;
And lay my bent bow by my side,

Which was my music sweet ;
And make my grave of gravel and green,

Which is most right and meet.

“Let me have length and breadth enough,

With a green sod under my head ; That they may say, when I am dead, Here lies bold Robin Hood.'

These words they readily promis'd him,

Which did bold Robin please ; And there they buried bold Robin Hood, * Near to the fair Kirklèys.

DOMESTIC.

THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON.

There was a youthe, and a well-beloved youthe,

And he was a squires son ;
He loved the bayliffes daughter deare,

That lived in Islington.

Yet she was coye, and would not believe

That he did love her soe, Noe nor at any time would she

Any countenance to him showe.

But when his friendes did understand

His fond and foolish minde,
They sent him up to faire London,
An apprentice for to binde.

And when he had been seven long yeares,

And never his love could see,‘Many a teare have I shed for her sake,

When she little thought of mee.

Then all the maids of Islington

Went forth to sport and playe,
All but the bayliffes daughter deare;

She secretly stole awaye..

She pulled off her gowne of greene,

And put on ragged attire,
And to faire London she would go

Her true love to enquire.

As as she went along the high road,

The weather being hot and drye,
She sat her downe upon a green bank,

And her true love came riding bye.

She started up, with a colour soe redd,

Catching hold of his bridle-reine ; 'One penny, one penny, kind sir,' she sayd,

“Will ease me of much paine.?

'Before I give you one penny, sweet-heart,

Praye tell me where you were borne.' “At Islington, kind sir,' sayd shee,

'Where I have had many a scorne.'

'I prythee, sweet-heart, then tell to mee,

O tell me, whether you knowe The bayliffes daughter of Islington.'

‘She is dead, sir, long agoe.'

"If she be dead, then take my horse,

My saddle and bridle also;
For I will into some farr countrye,

Where noe man shall me knowe.'

'O staye, O staye, thou goodlye youthe,

She standeth by thy side ;
She is here alive, she is not dead,

And readye to be thy bride.'

"O farewell griefe, and welcome joye,

Ten thousand times therefore ; For nowe I have founde mine owne true love,

Whom I thought I should never see more.'

SIR THOMAS WYATT.

[THOMAS WYATT, the eldest son of Sir Henry Wyatt, a baronet of ancient family, was born at Allington Castle, in Kent, in 1503. In the Court of Henry VIII he soon became a conspicuous figure, famous for his wit, his learning, his poetical talents, his linguistic attainments, his skill in athletic exercises, his fascinating manners and his handsome person. From a courtier he developed into a statesman and a diplomatist, and in the duties incident to statesmanship and diplomacy most of his life was passed. He died at Sherborne, while on his road to Falmouth, and was buried there October 11th, 1542. His poems were first printed in Tottel's Miscellany in 1557.]

Wyatt and Surrey are usually classed together - par nobile fratrum—the Dioscuri of the Dawn. They inaugurated that important period in our literature known as the Era of Italian Influence, or that of the Company of Courtly Makers—the period which immediately preceded and ushered in the age of Spenser and Shakespeare. With some of the characteristics of expiring mediævalism still lingering about them, the prevailing spirit of their poetry is the spirit of the Renaissance,-not its colour, not its exuberance, not its intoxication ; but its classicism, its harmony, and its appreciation of form. With the writings of Virgil, Martial and Seneca, in ancient, and with the writings of Petrarch and his school in modern times, they were evidently familiar, and they have as evidently made them their models. The influence of that school is indeed manifest in almost everything these poets have left us, sometimes directly in translations, in professed imitation, in turns of expression, still oftener indirectly in tone, form and style : but they owed more to the Italy of the fourteenth than to the Italy of the first century. To Wyatt and Surrey our debt is a great one. They introduced and naturalised the Sonnet, both the Sonnet of the true Petrarchian type and the Sonnet which was afterwards carried to such perfection in the hands of Shakespeare

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