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Madge Ye Hoyden

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.

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.

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

But Madge, ye hoyden, shoke her head,—  "I'le be no lemman unto

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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 whenhe wooed his doxy long ago;  & Madge did make ado &

Her teares ffor joy did flowe.

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

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 flewea many leagues away.

Sir Tomas ben wood wroth and swore,  And sometime strode thro' leaf & brakeand 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

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 willffor Robin's coming

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

With griff, she still did praye.

Sicke of that divell's damnèd 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.

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Eugene Field

Eugene Field Sr. (September 2, 1850 – November 4, 1895) was an American writer, best known for his children's poetry and humorous essays. He was…

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