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Madge: Ye Hoyden

By Eugene Field

Topics: classic

I     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 damnd 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

About Eugene Field

Eugene Field (1850–1895) was an American writer and poet known as the "children's poet." His poems "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod" and "Little Boy Blue" are cherished classics of American children's literature.

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