Poetry Archives

At Madge, ye hoyden, gossips scofft,
  Ffor that a romping wench was shee—
“Now marke this rede,” they bade her oft,
  “Forsooken sholde your folly bee!”
But Madge, ye hoyden, laught & cried,
  “Oho, oho,” in girlish glee,
And noe thing mo replied.

II

No griffe she had nor knew no care,
  But gayly rompit all daies long,
And, like ye brooke that everywhere
  Goes jinking with a gladsome song,
Shee danct and songe from morn till night,—
  Her gentil harte did know no wrong,
Nor did she none despight.

III

Sir Tomas from his noblesse halle
  Did trend his path a somer’s daye,
And to ye hoyden he did call
  And these ffull evill words did say:
“O wolde you weare a silken gown
  And binde your haire with ribands gay?
Then come with me to town!”

IV

But Madge, ye hoyden, shoke her head,—
  “I’le be no lemman unto thee
For all your golde and gownes,” shee said,
  “ffor Robin hath bespoken mee.”
Then ben Sir Tomas sore despight,
  And back unto his hall went hee
With face as ashen white.

V

“O Robin, wilt thou wed this girl,
  Whenas she is so vaine a sprite?”
So spak ffull many an envious churle
  Unto that curteyse countrie wight.
But Robin did not pay no heede;
  And they ben wed a somer night
& danct upon ye meade.

VI

Then scarse ben past a yeare & daye
  Whan Robin toke unto his bed,
And long, long time therein he lay,
  Nor colde not work to earn his bread;
in soche an houre, whan times ben sore,
  Sr. Tomas came with haughtie tread
& knockit at ye doore.

VII

Saies: “Madge, ye hoyden, do you know
  how that you once despighted me?
But He forgiff an you will go
  my swete harte lady ffor to bee!”
But Madge, ye hoyden, heard noe more,—
  straightway upon her heele turnt shee,
& shote ye cottage doore.

VIII

Soe Madge, ye hoyden, did her parte
  whiles that ye years did come and go;
‘t was somer allwais in her harte,
  tho’ winter strewed her head with snowe.
She toilt and span thro’ all those years
  nor bid repine that it ben soe,
nor never shad noe teares.

IX

Whiles Robin lay within his bed,
  A divell came and whispered lowe,—
“Giff you will doe my will,” he said,
  “None more of sickness you shall knowe!”
Ye which gave joy to Robin’s soul—
  Saies Robin: “Divell, be it soe,
an that you make me whoale!”

X

That day, upp rising ffrom his bed,
  Quoth Robin: “I am well again!”
& backe he came as from ye dead,
  & he ben mickle blithe as when
he wooed his doxy long ago;
  & Madge did make ado & then
Her teares ffor joy did flowe.

XI

Then came that hell-born cloven thing—
  Saies: “Robin, I do claim your life,
and I hencefoorth shall be your king,
  and you shall do my evill strife.
Look round about and you shall see
  sr. Tomas’ young and ffoolish wiffe—
a comely dame is shee!”

XII

Ye divell had him in his power,
  and not colde Robin say thereto:
Soe Robin from that very houre
  did what that divell bade him do;
He wooed and dipt, and on a daye
  Sr. Tomas’ wife and Robin flewe
a many leagues away.

XIII

Sir Tomas ben wood wroth and swore,
  And sometime strode thro’ leaf & brake
and knockit at ye cottage door
  and thus to Madge, ye hoyden, spake:
Saies, “I wolde have you ffor mine own,
  So come with mee & bee my make,
syn tother birds ben flown.”

XIV

But Madge, ye hoyden, bade him noe;
  Saies: “Robin is my swete harte still,
And, tho’ he doth despight me soe,
  I mean to do him good for ill.
So goe, Sir Tomas, goe your way;
  ffor whiles I bee on live I will
ffor Robin’s coming pray!”

XV

Soe Madge, ye hoyden, kneelt & prayed
  that Godde sholde send her Robin backe.
And tho’ ye folke vast scoffing made,
  and tho’ ye worlde ben colde and blacke,
And tho’, as moneths dragged away,
  ye hoyden’s harte ben like to crack
With griff, she still did praye.

XVI

Sicke of that divell’s damned charmes,
  Aback did Robin come at last,
And Madge, ye hoyden, sprad her arms
  and gave a cry and held him fast;
And as she clong to him and cried,
  her patient harte with joy did brast,
& Madge, ye hoyden, died.