Old Robin Of Portingale Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: A B C D EFDF CFGF CHGH G C DD GIG JCGC KCCC LCJH JMCG ENG EOPC C J L J EGL O ODGD C O COFC HCH QCCC CCRH CSEE CEGE JEEE CCQC ECO ECO CDCD CCC JC LCCC

Text The Percy Folio is the sole authority for this excellent ballad and the text of the MS is therefore given here literatim in preference to the copy served up 'with considerable corrections' by Percy in the Reliques I have however substituted a few obvious emendations suggested by Professor Child giving the Folio reading in a footnoteA
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The Story is practically identical with that of Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard but each is so good though in a different vein that neither could be excludedB
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The last stanza narrates the practice of burning a cross on the flesh of the right shoulder when setting forth to the Holy Land a practice which obtained only among the very devout or superstitious of the Crusaders Usually a cross of red cloth attached to the right shoulder of the coat was deemed sufficientC
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OLD ROBIN OF PORTINGALED
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God let neuer soe old a manE
Marry soe yonge a wiffeF
As did old Robin of PortingaleD
He may rue all the dayes of his liffeF
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Ffor the Maior's daughter of Lin God wottC
He chose her to his wifeF
thought to haue liued in quiettnesseG
With her all the dayes of his liffeF
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They had not in their wed bed laidC
Scarcly were both on sleepeH
But vpp she rose forth shee goesG
To Sir Gyles fast can weepeH
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Saies 'Sleepe you wake you faire Sir GylesG
Or be not you within '-
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'But I am waking sweete ' he saidC
'Lady what is your will '-
'I haue vnbethought me of a wileD
How my wed lord we shall spillD
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'Four and twenty knights ' she sayesG
'That dwells about this towneI
Eene four and twenty of my next cozensG
Will helpe to dinge him downe '-
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With that beheard his litle foote pageJ
As he was watering his master's steedC
SoeG
His verry heart did bleedC
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He mourned sikt wept full soreK
I sweare by the holy roodeC
The teares he for his master weptC
Were blend water bloudeC
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With that beheard his deare masterL
As in his garden sateC
Sayes 'Euer alacke my litle pageJ
What causes thee to weepeH
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'Hath any one done to thee wrongeJ
Any of thy fellowes hereM
Or is any of thy good friends deadC
Which makes thee shed such tearesG
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'Or if it be my head kookes manE
Greiued againe he shalbeN
Nor noe man within my howseG
Shall doe wrong vnto thee '-
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'But it is not your head kookes manE
Nor none of his degreeO
But or tomorrow ere it be nooneP
You are deemed to dieC
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' of that thanke your head stewardC
after your gay ladie '-
'If it be true my litle foote pageJ
Ile make thee heyre of all my land '-
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'If it be not true my deare masterL
God let me neuer thye '-
'If it be not true thou litle foot pageJ
A dead corse shalt thou be '-
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He called downe his head kooke's manE
'Cooke in kitchen super to dresse'G
'All anon my deare masterL
Anon att your request '-
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' call you downe my faire LadyO
This night to supp with mee '-
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downe then came that fayre LadyO
Was cladd all in purple palleD
The rings that were vpon her fingersG
Cast light thorrow the hallD
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'What is your will my owne wed LordC
What is your will with me '-
'I am sicke fayre LadyO
Sore sicke like to dye '-
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'But you be sicke my owne wed LordC
Soe sore it greiueth meeO
But my maydens my selfeF
Will goe make your beddC
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' at the wakening of your first sleepeH
You shall haue a hott drinke madeC
at the wakening of your next sleepeH
Your sorrowes will haue a slake '-
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He put a silke cote on his backeQ
Was inches foldeC
put a steele cap vpon his headC
Was gilded with good red goldC
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he layd a bright browne sword by his sideC
another att his ffeeteC
full well knew old Robin thenR
Whether he shold wake or sleepeH
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about the middle time of the nightC
Came good knights inS
Sir Gyles he was the formost manE
Soe well he knew that ginneE
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Old Robin with a bright browne swordC
Sir Gyles' head he did winneE
Soe did he all thoseG
Neuer a one went quicke out agenE
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None but one litle foot pageJ
Crept forth at a window of stoneE
he had armes when he came inE
And when he went out he had noneE
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Vpp then came that ladie lightC
With torches burning brightC
Shee thought to haue brought Sir Gyles a drinkeQ
But shee found her owne wedd knightC
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the first thing that this ladye stumbled vponE
Was of Sir Gyles his ffooteC
Sayes 'Euer alacke woe is meO
Heere lyes my sweete hart roote '-
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the d thing that this ladie stumbled onE
Was of Sir Gyles his headC
Sayes 'Euer alacke woe is meO
Heere lyes my true loue deade '-
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Hee cutt the papps beside her brestC
bad her wish her willD
he cutt the eares beside her headeC
bade her wish on stillD
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'Mickle is the man's blood I haue spentC
To doe thee me some good'C
Sayes 'Euer alacke my fayre LadyC
I thinke that I was woode '-
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He call'd then vp his litle foote pageJ
made him heyre of all his landC
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he shope the crosse in his right sholderL
Of the white flesh the reddC
he went him into the holy landC
Wheras Christ was quicke and deadC

Frank Sidgwick



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