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The R. J. Schoolmaster.

33.

VOL. III.

SEPTEMBER, 1857.

Try Again.

There's always something in the breast
Which whispers clear and plain,
"There's work to do; why idly rest?
Up, up, and try again."

There's magic in these little words,

Which have a greater power

Than levell'd guns, or flashing swords,

In danger's darkest hour;

And when they're used to prompt the right, To soothe distress and pain,

They bear a tone of glorious might―

"Up, up, and try again."

The little flower which lifts its head

Up to the sunlit sky,

Bow'd down beneath the heavy tread,

Does not lie there and die;

There is a voice borne by the winds,

Which vibrates o'er the plain,
And says, unheard by passing hinds,
"Up, up, and try again!"

The student, poring o'er his books,
By the dim midnight oil,
With wearied eyes and haggard looks,
Fails, but renews his toil;
The man of science, searching out

Great truth, with throbbing brain,
Says, mid confusion dark, and doubt,

"Up, up, and try again!"

And that should be the watchword cry
Of all the good and wise,
Together banded, sworn to dry

The mourner's weeping eyes:
To set up Love and earnest Work

Where Vice and Sloth now reign; Though long they toil, still let them cry"We'll conquer-Try again!"

For the Schoolmaster.

NO. 7.

The Lyttell Geste of Robin Hood.

Analysis and Criticism.-The Story and its uses.

F.

EVERYBODY has heard of Robin Hood and his merry men. He is supposed to have been a real personage and to have flourished before the time of Chaucer, in the reign of the first or second Edward. Differing authorities place him in the thirteenth and in the fourteenth centuries.

The ballad of the "Lyttell Geste of Robin Hood," is ascribed, by an English critic, to a poet living in the time of Richard III. It is probable that long before its first printing by Wynkyn de Worde, in 1489, it existed, in some form, in manuscript. It is still more probable that its life depended on its oral repetition more than on any formal record. The same is true of old ballads and even of the songs of to-day. Perhaps not more than one in a hundred who sing "Lilly Dale," has seen the printed music.

In the version of the Lyttell Geste now in the hands of the writer of this article, are more than four hundred and fifty stanzas of four lines each, covering seventy-one pages. Let us attempt an analysis.

The first stanza, in its brevity and animation a model of a good introduction, is a fit prelude to the wild, quaint, animated ballad which follows:

O listen to me all ye so free
That are of gentle blood,
The while I tell of a bold yeoman,
His name it was Robin Hood.

The next three stanzas introduce the principal characters; Robin Hood himself, Little John, Scathelock and Mutch the miller's son.

This Robin he was an outlaw proud,
While'er he walked on ground;
An outlaw of better courtesy
Than Robin was never found.

Robin stood in Bernysdale

And leaned him against a tree, And at his side stood Little John

And a yeoman good was he.

And there good Scathelock stood beside,
And Mutch the miller's son;

Of whose stout body there was n't an inch

And so he was; for when the sheriff was absent, Little John with the cook escaped to the greenwood with all their master's treasure. He then decoyed the sheriff into the haunts of the outlaw. Robin, after feasting him extorted from him the promise of good will and assistance and then released him.

Fytte the fourth relates how the High Cellarer of St. Mary's, met by Little John, Mutch and Scathelock, is brought, unwillingly, to dine with Robin in the greenwood after the flight or slaughter of a companion and fiftytwo young men, his guard,

Save a little page, and a groom to lead
The sumpter steed with John.

Here Robin abstracts from the well-filled cof-
fers of the monk eight hundred pounds and
allows him to escape. Thus Robin gets dou-
pay for his loan to the knight.

ble

Late in the day returns the knight with the money he borrowed a twelvemonth before. He is repaid and given half of the prize taken from the monk, when he goes rejoicing on his way.

But 'twas worth a whole man each one. Fytte the first,-its four opening stanzas are quoted above, then details the story of the capture of a poor but honest knight who has entered the haunts of the outlaw in Sherwood forest. He is brought into debt to a hard debtor by his son's bad conduct. Him Robin bountifully feasts and lends him four hundred pounds to be redeemed in a twelve-in month,

"Under the greenwood tree."

Besides, he gives him a livery of his own red and green cloth and Little John to be his squire.

In Fytte the second, the knight pays the insolent Abbot of St. Mary's, with whom lay the security of his debt, goes home joyfully to his lady and gets him

a hundred men Well harnessed for good stead, And he himself, in a like fashion

Was clothed in white and red.

Afterwards, going to the greenwood to repay Robin, he is detained to rescue an insulted yeoman. Then follows, in Fytte the third, the story of the exploits of Little John, who, under the name of Reynold Greenleaf, became servant to the Sheriff of Nottingham :

"Now God so help me," said little John,
"I swear by my loyalty,

I shall be the worst serving-man to him
That ever yet had he."

and six of his best men at Nottingham, of Fytte the fifth tells of good archery by Robthe sheriff's treachery and the escape of the outlaws, with brave Little John wounded, to the castle of Sir Richard of the Lee, the knight whom Robin had befriended. The sequel of the adventure is told in Fytte the sixth. The sheriff of Nottingham applies to the high sheriff, the country is roused, and the party are besieged in Sir Richard's castle but remain secure. Then the King himself is apprised of the siege and goes to Nottingham. But Robin escaped, for he

was in the greenwood, Upon a certain day.

Little John had recovered from his wound. The knight, however, was not so fortunate. As he went hawking, he was seized by the sheriff. But his lady mounting her palfrey, sought the outlaw-chief, who, upon learning the danger of Sir Richard of the Lee, hastened with full seven score men to Nottingham, where he rescued the good knight and killed the faithless sheriff.

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'Till to the greenwood they came.

Here they were intercepted, as they hoped to be, by Robin, who courteously retained only half of the forty pounds the King possessed. The abbot, assuming to be a messenger from Edward, presented the royal seal, commanding Robin to be present at Nottingham at a banquet. To the seal, Robin paid respectful obeisance. To regale his guest, he slew many a noble deer and then, with a blast of his horn called up his band, seven score young men, who kneeled before their chief. The sight of the ready obedience of Robin's men, led the King to say

"Methinketh by this sign,

That his men more at his bidding be
Than my men be at mine."

"There's pith in thy arm," said Robin, "Thy shooting a foe might rue!” Awhile the King stood and Robin Hood And looked each other through.

Then the outlaw discovered that the abbot was the King. Down on their knees dropped every man, and Robin sued for mercy. Pardon the King gave, if the outlaw would go to court and serve Edward. The service was granted and so Robin Hood and his merrie men went to London.

But they returned to the greenwood one by one and the discontented outlaw was left almost alone. One day said Robin to the King,

"My longing is for Bernysdale,

And so would I be there,
Then I would walk in penance shirt,

Thither and feet all bare."

So permission was granted, by the King, of seven nights absence. But so enchanted was the outlaw by the beauties of the greenwood

that he could not return to court. A blast of his horn brought his loyal men together about him; and his absence of seven days was prolonged to three times as many years.

The story closes with an account of his death. He, as did Samson, died by treachery through the connivance of a woman.

Fytte the eighth, from which the last stanzas came, concludes the ballad.

May Christ have mercy on his soul,
That died upon the rood,
For he was a noble outlaw,
And to the poor did good.

After a grand and bountiful dinner, followed a trial of skill in archery. The penalty for a bad shot was the loss of the archer's arrow and a "buffet on his head" by the master. At his third trial, Robin himself missed the mark. Being the first in rank, he gave his And so the "Lyttell Geste of Robin Hood" arrow to the abbot.

"I give thee my arrow, Sir abbot,
And pry'thee sir, serve thou me."

Said the King, "it ill suiteth my order,
And I say it by thy leave,
Ever to smite a good yeoman,

Lest I should make him grieve."

But Robin gave the King free leave. So the abbot's arm was bared and he gave Robin such a blow as to bring him nearly to the ground.

"I swear, on my oath," said Robin,
"Thou art a stalwart friar."

ends.

There still exists, it is stated, an old book in England of Curious Epitaphs wherein is a copy from an ancient tombstone, said to have been found in the neighborhood of Robin Hood's famous greenwood. From this and another record of the same, or from tradition, it is inferred by some that the celebrated outlaw was of noble blood:- an earl. Some, however, have reasoned from the term " "yeoman" in the third line of the first "verse that he was not "of gentle blood." The evidence on neither side is conclusive, and could,

if it were decisive, establish no very important fact. There are two particulars in which the Lyttell Geste is interesting to the student of English history and literature. The first as showing, even at so comparatively remote a period from the Norman Conquest, the existence of the old hatred of priestly rule and arbitrary power, as well as the contempt of Norman insolence when under a petty charge which sprung up when William the Conqueror came over from Normandy at least two hundred years before. The second, as showing the state of the language at the time the ballad was written. This is really an important particular, for it is well known that the language of a people exhibits most plainly their char

acter.

The reader has probably noted, in passing, the rough boldness of the diction. If, as says Buffon, "A man's style is the man himself," none but a man of a bold, manly, courageous spirit, respecting or actually possessing personal strength and address, could have penned such lines as describe "Mutch the miller's son" in the third stanza quoted. The last two lines of that verse will compare with advantage with any description - if it can be found of manly strength or bravery in our popular newspaper literature. It is evident from the preservation and appreciation of this ballad among the common people that such bravery was looked upon as praiseworthy.

J. W. O.

NOTE.-The "Biblia Sacra," (see foot note, II, page 179) dated 1478, belonging to the Conn. Hist. Soc. Coll. is in SPANISH. Of the old Bibles, in their collection are, besides, Cranmer's, Bishop's, and Rhemish & Bishop's Bibles in English, and the Biblia Sacra in Latin. The two last are respectively dated 1589 and 1697. I am indebted for this information to the Recording Secretary of that Society, in answer to my inquiry respecting the Biblia Sacra.

J. W. O.

A Harvest Hymn for 1857.

BY MARTIN F. TUPPER.

O Father, merciful and good!
O Giver ever kind,

Who feedest us with daily food
For body, soul, and mind!

We worship Thee, we bless Thee,
We praise Thee evermore;
And heartily confess Thee

The God whom we adore!

How thick with corn between the hills
The laughing valleys stand!
How plenteously Thy mercy fills
The garners of our land!

And therefore will we raise Thee
Our humble anthem thus,
And, sinful children, praise Thee
For all Thy love to us!

As year by year, in ceaseless love,

Thy bounty never fails,
But still the blessing from above
O'erflows our hills and dales,
So, truly we adore Thee,

Thou Giver of all good,
And offer now before Thee

Thy people's gratitude!

VISIT YOUR SCHOOLS.-You could not do a

better thing. Your boy has the idea that you care scarcely more than a fig's value about his progress there: your girl thinks you are too busy about more important matters than to worry about her recitations. Grammar is dry as dust to them, Geography is tedious, Arithmetic is a bore, Reading is horrid, Writing is their special abomination. You talk of stocks and Senatorships, of the war and free trade. The young ones learn to think their studies very small matters in comparison with yours.

But visit your school to-day. Hear a lesson or two recited. Learn from their teachers what their standing is, in what they oftenest fail, in what they excel. See who sits next to them in the school-room. See how they compare in personal appearance-whether they look happy and at home. If acquainted with their school hab

GALILEO, when under twenty years of age, was standing one day in the metropolitan church of Pisa, when he observed a lamp, which was sus-its, you cannot possibly avoid talking of them. pended from the ceiling, and which had been disturbed by accident, swing backwards and forwards. Galileo, struck with the regularity with which it moved backwards and forwards, reflected upon it and perfected the method now in use of measuring time by means of a pendulum.

Few things are impossible to industry and skill.

Making their matters subjects of home conversation will certainly stimulate them to better efforts-make better scholars of them. By all means, then, visit your schools. Go alone, if no one will go with you. You will always be welcomed by the teacher.

Laziness travels so slow that poverty soon over takes her.

For the Schoolmaster.

Beranger.

BY MANFRED.

Since we last paid our monthly visit to your quiet homes, dear readers, the sad news has reached us that Beranger, who had a home in every heart, has sung his last earth-song, and has gone to his rest. He died July 16th, aged 77. He was buried at Pere la Chaise on the 17th. Jasmin, who styles himself the "Last of the Troubadours," remarked to Angus B. Reach, "God only made four Frenchmen poets! and their names are Corneille, Lafontaine, Beranger, and Jasmin!"

He is reported to have left for publication a number of songs, an autobiography, and a series of notes on his contemporaries. In the present state of France, a delay in the publication of these till such time as their effect upon modern politics should be weakened, would probably be the only way of ensuring their appearance in a complete form.

D. Appleton & Co., publish a new edition of "Beranger: two hundred of his lyrical poems, done into English verse, by William Young."

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The Home Journal thus notices his death :Beranger is dead. His disease was one of the heart, with complications which, at his time of life, (he was seventy-seven or seventyeight), left but little hope of a successful termination. His residence was visited by a very large portion of the most distinguished = people of Paris; and although only his most intimate friends were admitted to the sick chamber, the rest inscribed their names, as is = the habit in France, in a book at the door. M. Beranger was constantly attended by M. Perrotin, his publisher and old friend. The Constitutionnel contains the following: "The empress, on hearing of the illness which placed the life of Beranger in danger, sent M. Damas-Hinard, her private secretary, to express her sympathy for the sufferer. Notwithtanding his serious state, Beranger signified his desire to receive her Majesty's secretary. Extended on a sofa, his face pale and shrunken, his eyes half closed, Beranger raised his hand to take that of M. Damas-Hinard, who told him in whose name he had come to condole

"Her Majesty is

with him on his sufferings.
very good," said Beranger, in a feeble voice.
"It was very natural," replied M. Damas-Hi-
nard, "that the empress should send to you;
you were one of the delights of her youth, and
to her admiration for the poet are united
esteem and affection for the man." While
M. Damas-Hinard was speaking, the counte-
nance of Beranger brightened up, and he said:
The empress is very kind. She has passed
nobly through the different phases of her life,
and now, in the exalted station in which she
is placed, she gives proof of an excellent heart.
Do not fail," added Beranger, "to express to
her all my gratitude."

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We subjoin the following, as specimens of his genius:

SECRET COURTSHIP.

[A blind mother sits in her cottage, beside her pretty daughter, and cautions her against love, while, all the time, an amitory scene is going on between the girl and the very lover whom the old dame dreads.]

Daughter, while you turn your wheel,
Listen to the words I say;
Colin has contrived to steal

Your unthinking heart away.
Of his fawning voice beware,
You are all the blind one's care,
And I mark your sighs when e'er

Our young neighbor's name is heard.
Colin's tongue is false, though winning-
Hist! the window is unbarred!
Ah! Lisette, you are not spinning!

The room is close and warm, you say;
But, my daughter, do not peep
Through the casement-night and day,
Colin there his watch doth keep.
Think not mine a grumbling tongue:
Ah! here at my breast you hung.
I, like you, was fair and young,

And I know how apt is love
To lead the youthful heart to sinning-
Hist! the door-I heard it move!
Ah, Lisette, you are not spinning!
It is a gust of wind, you say,

That hath made the hinges grate;
And my poor old growling Tray,
Must you break for that his pate?
Ah, my child, put faith in me;
Age permits me to foresee

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