Silently over his vast imperial seas,
 Over his sentinel fleets the Shadow swept
 And all his armies slept.
 There was but one quick challenge at the gate,
 Then—the cold menace of that out-stretched hand,
 Waving aside the panoplies of State,
 Brought the last faithful watchers to their knees,
 And lightning flashed the grief from land to land.
Mourn, Britain, mourn, not for a king alone!
 This was the people's king! His purple throne
 Was in their hearts. They shared it. Millions of swords
 Could not have shaken it! Sharers of this doom,
 This democratic doom which all men know,
 His Common-weal, in this great common woe,
 Veiling its head in the universal gloom,
 With that majestic grief which knows not words,
 Bows o'er a world-wide tomb.
Mourn, Europe, for our England set this Crown
 In splendour past the reach of temporal power,
 Secure above the thunders of the hour,
 A sun in the great skies of her renown,
 A sun to hold her wheeling worlds in one
 By its own course of duty pre-ordained,
 Where'er the meteors flash and fall, a sun
 With its great course of duty!
So he reigned,
 And died in its observance. Mightier he
 Than any despot, in his people's love,
 He served that law which rules the Thrones above,
 That world-wide law which by the raging sea
 Abased the flatterers of Canúte and makes
 The King that abnegates all lesser power
 A rock in time of trouble, and a tower
 Of strength where'er the tidal tempest breaks;
 That world-wide law whose name is harmony,
 Whose service perfect freedom!
And his name
 The Peacemaker, through all the future years
 Shall burn, a glorious and prophetic flame,
 A beaconing sun that never shall go down,
 A sun to speed the world's diviner morrow,
 A sun that shines the brighter for our sorrow;
 For, O, what splendour in a monarch's crown
 Vies with the splendour of his people's tears?
And now, O now, while the sorrowful trumpet is blown,
 From island to continent, zone to imperial zone,
 And the flags of the nations are lowered in grief with our own;
 Now, while the roll of the drums that for battle were dumb
 When he reigned, salute his passing; and low on the breeze
 From the snow-bound North to the Australasian seas
 Surges the solemn lament—O, shall it not come,
 A glimpse of that mightier union of all mankind?
 Now, though our eyes, as they gaze on the vision, grow blind,
 Now, while the world is all one funeral knell,
 And the mournful cannon thunder his great farewell, Now, while the bells of a thousand cities toll,
 Remember, O England, remember the ageless goal,
 Rally the slumbering faith in the depths of thy soul,
 Lift up thine eyes to the Kingdom for which he fought,
 That Empire of Peace and Good-will, for which to his death-hour he wrought.
 Then, then while the pomp of the world seems a little thing,
 Ay, though by the world it be said,
 The King is dead!
 We shall lift up our hearts and answer—Long live the King!

THE SAILOR-KING

The fleet, the fleet puts out to sea
 In a thunder of blinding foam to-night,
 With a bursting wreck-strewn reef to lee,
 But—a seaman fired yon beacon-light!
 Seamen hailing a seaman, know—
 Free-men crowning a free-man, sing—
 The worth of that light where the great ships go,
 The signal-fire of the king.
Cloud and wind may shift and veer:
 This is steady and this is sure,
 A signal over our hope and fear,
 A pledge of the strength that shall endure—
 Having no part in our storm-tossed strife—
 A sign of union, which shall bring
 Knowledge to men of their close-knit life,
 The signal-fire of the king.
His friends are the old grey glorious waves,
 The wide world round, the wide world round,
 That have roared with our guns and covered our graves
 From Nombre Dios to Plymouth Sound;
 And his crown shall shine, a central sun
 Round which the planet-nations sing,
 Going their ways, but linked in one,
 As the ships of our sailor-king.
Many the ships, but a single fleet;
 Many the roads, but a single goal;
 And a light, a light where all roads meet,
 The beacon-fire of an Empire's soul;
 The worth of that light his seamen know,
 Through all the deaths that the storm can bring
 The crown of their comrade-ship a-glow,
 The signal-fire of the king.

THE FIDDLER'S FAREWELL

With my fiddle to my shoulder,
 And my hair turning grey,
 And my heart growing older
 I must shuffle on my way!
 Tho' there's not a hearth to greet me
 I must reap as I sowed,
 And—the sunset shall meet me
 At the turn of the road.
O, the whin's a dusky yellow
 And the road a rosy white,
 And the blackbird's call is mellow
 At the falling of night;
 And there's honey in the heather
 Where we'll make our last abode,
 My tunes and me together
 At the turn of the road.
I have fiddled for your city
 Thro' market-place and inn!
 I have poured forth my pity
 On your sorrow and your sin!
 But your riches are your burden,
 And your pleasure is your goad!
 I've the whin-gold for guerdon
 At the turn of the road.
Your village-lights 'll call me
 As the lights of home the dead;
 But a black night befall me
 Ere your pillows rest my head!
 God be praised, tho' like a jewel
 Every cottage casement showed,
 There's a star that's not so cruel
 At the turn of the road.
Nay, beautiful and kindly
 Are the faces drawing nigh,
 But I gaze on them blindly
 And hasten, hasten by;
 For O, no face of wonder
 On earth has ever glowed
 Like the One that waits me yonder
 At the turn of the road.
Her face is lit with splendour,
 She dwells beyond the skies;
 But deep, deep and tender
 Are the tears in her eyes:
 The angels see them glistening
 In pity for my load,
 And—she's waiting there, she's listening,
 At the turn of the road.

TO A PESSIMIST

Life like a cruel mistress woos
 The passionate heart of man, you say,
 Only in mockery to refuse
 His love, at last, and turn away.
To me she seems a queen that knows
 How great is love—but ah, how rare!—
 And, pointing heavenward ere she goes,
 Gives him the rose from out her hair.

MOUNT IDA

[This poem commemorates an event of some years ago, when a young Englishman—still remembered by many of his contemporaries at Oxford—went up into Mount Ida and was never seen again.]

I
Not cypress, but this warm pine-plumage now
 Fragrant with sap, I pluck; nor bid you weep,
 Ye Muses that still haunt the heavenly brow
 Of Ida, though the ascent is hard and steep:
 Weep not for him who left us wrapped in sleep
 At dawn beneath the holy mountain's breast
 And all alone from Ilion's gleaming shore
 Clomb the high sea-ward glens, fain to drink deep
 Of earth's old glory from your silent crest,
 Take the cloud-conquering throne
 Of gods, and gaze alone
 Thro' heaven. Darkling we slept who saw his face no more.
II
Ah yet, in him hath Lycidas a brother,
 And Adonaïs will not say him nay,
 And Thyrsis to the breast of one sweet Mother
 Welcomes him, climbing by the self-same way:
 Quietly as a cloud at break of day
 Up the long glens of golden dew he stole
 (And surely Bion called to him afar!)
 The tearful hyacinths and the greenwood spray
 Clinging to keep him from the sapphire goal,
 Kept of his path no trace!
 Upward the yearning face
 Clomb the ethereal height, calm as the morning star.
III
Ah yet, incline, dear Sisters, or my song
 That with the light wings of the skimming swallow
 Must range the reedy slopes, will work him wrong!
 And with some golden shaft do thou, Apollo,
 Show the pine-shadowed path that none may follow; For, as the blue air shuts behind a bird,
 Round him closed Ida's cloudy woods and rills!
 Day-long, night-long, by echoing height and hollow,
 We called him, but our tumult died unheard:
 Down from the scornful sky
 Our faint wing-broken cry
 Fluttered and perished among the many-folded hills.
IV
Ay, though we clomb each faint-flushed peak of vision,
 Nought but our own sad faces we divined:
 Thy radiant way still laughed us to derision,
 And still revengeful Echo proved unkind;
 And oft our faithless hearts half feared to find
 Thy cold corse in some dark mist-drenched ravine
 Where the white foam flashed headlong to the sea:
 How should we find thee, spirits deaf and blind
 Even to the things which we had heard and seen?
 Eyes that could see no more
 The old light on sea and shore,
 What should they hope or fear to find? They found not thee;
V
For thou wast ever alien to our skies,
 A wistful stray of radiance on this earth,
 A changeling with deep memories in thine eyes
 Mistily gazing thro' our loud-voiced mirth
 To some fair land beyond the gates of birth;
 Yet as a star thro' clouds, thou still didst shed
 Through our dark world thy lovelier, rarer glow;
 Time, like a picture of but little worth,
 Before thy young hand lifelessly outspread,
 At one light stroke from thee
 Gleamed with Eternity;
 Thou gav'st the master's touch, and we—we did not know.
VI
Not though we gazed from heaven o'er Ilion
 Dreaming on earth below, mistily crowned
 With towering memories, and beyond her shone
 The wine-dark seas Achilles heard resound!
 Only, and after many days, we found
 Dabbled with dew, at border of a wood
 Bedded in hyacinths, open and a-glow
 Thy Homer's Iliad.... Dryad tears had drowned
 The rough Greek type and, as with honey or blood,
 One crocus with crushed gold
 Stained the great page that told
 Of gods that sighed their loves on Ida, long ago.
VII
See—for a couch to their ambrosial limbs
 Even as their golden load of splendour presses
 The fragrant thyme, a billowing cloud up-swims
 Of springing flowers beneath their deep caresses,
 Hyacinth, lotus, crocus, wildernesses
 Of bloom ... but clouds of sunlight and of dew
 Dropping rich balm, round the dark pine-woods curled
 That the warm wonder of their in-woven tresses,
 And all the secret blisses that they knew,
 Where beauty kisses truth
 In heaven's deep heart of youth,
 Might still be hidden, as thou art, from the heartless world.
VIII
Even as we found thy book, below these rocks
 Perchance that strange great eagle's feather lay,
 When Ganymede, from feeding of his flocks
 On Ida, vanished thro' the morning grey:
 Stranger it seemed, if thou couldst cast away Those golden musics as a thing of nought,
 A dream for which no longer thou hadst need!
 Ah, was it here then that the break of day
 Brought thee the substance for the shadow, taught
 Thy soul a swifter road
 To ease it of its load
 And watch this world of shadows as a dream recede?
IX
We slept! Darkling we slept! Our busy schemes,
 Our cold mechanic world awhile was still;
 But O, their eyes are blinded even in dreams
 Who from the heavenlier Powers withdraw their will:
 Here did the dawn with purer light fulfil
 Thy happier eyes than ours, here didst thou see
 The quivering wonder-light in flower and dew,
 The quickening glory of the haunted hill,
 The Hamadryad beckoning from the tree.
 The Naiad from the stream;
 While from her long dark dream
 Earth woke, trembling with life, light, beauty, through and through.
X
And the everlasting miracle of things
 Flowed round thee, and this dark earth opposed no bar,
 And radiant faces from the flowers and springs
 Dawned on thee, whispering, Knowest thou whence we are?
 Faintly thou heardst us calling thee afar
 As Hylas heard, swooning beneath the wave,
 Girdled with glowing arms, while wood and glen
 Echoed his name beneath that rosy star;
 And thy farewell came faint as from the grave
 For very bliss; but we
 Could neither hear nor see;
 And all the hill with Hylas! Hylas! rang again.
XI
But there were deeper love-tales for thine ears
 Than mellow-tongued Theocritus could tell:
 Over him like a sea two thousand years
 Had swept. They solemnized his music well!
 Farewell! What word could answer but farewell,
 From thee, O happy spirit, that couldst steal
 So quietly from this world at break of day?
 What voice of ours could break the silent spell
 Beauty had cast upon thee, or reveal
 The gates of sun and dew
 Which oped and let thee through
 And led thee heavenward by that deep enchanted way?
XII
Yet here thou mad'st thy choice: Love, Wisdom, Power,
 As once before young Paris, they stood here!
 Beneath them Ida, like one full-blown flower,
 Shed her bloom earthward thro' the radiant air
 Leaving her rounded fruit, their beauty, bare
 To the everlasting dawn; and, in thy palm
 The golden apple of the Hesperian isle
 Which thou must only yield to the Most Fair;
 But not to Juno's great luxurious calm,
 Nor Dian's curved white moon,
 Gav'st thou the sunset's boon,
 Nor to foam-bosomed Aphrodite's rose-lipped smile.
XIII
Here didst thou make the eternal choice aright,
 Here, in this hallowed haunt of nymph and faun,
 They stood before thee in that great new light,
 The three great splendours of the immortal dawn,
 With all the cloudy veils of Time withdrawn Or only glistening round the firm white snows
 Of their pure beauty like the golden dew
 Brushed from the feathery ferns below the lawn;
 But not to cold Diana's morning rose,
 Nor to great Juno's frown
 Cast thou the apple down,
 And, when the Paphian raised her lustrous eyes anew,
XIV
Thou from thy soul didst whisper—in that heaven
 Which yearns beyond us! Lead me up the height!
 How should the golden fruit to one be given
 Till your three splendours in that Sun unite
 Where each in each ye move like light in light?
 How should I judge the rapture till I know
 The pain? And like three waves of music there
 They closed thee round, blinding thy blissful sight
 With beauty and, like one roseate orb a-glow,
 They bore thee on their breasts
 Up the sun-smitten crests
 And melted with thee smiling into the Most Fair.
XV
Upward and onward, ever as ye went
 The cities of the world nestled beneath
 Closer, as if in love, round Ida, blent
 With alien hills in one great bridal-wreath
 Of dawn-flushed clouds; while, breathing with your breath
 New heavens mixed with your mounting bliss. Deep eyes,
 Beautiful eyes, imbrued with the world's tears
 Dawned on you, beautiful gleams of Love and Death
 Flowed thro' your questioning with divine replies
 From that ineffable height
 Dark with excess of light
 Where the Ever-living dies and the All-loving hears.
XVI
For thou hadst seen what tears upon man's face
 Bled from the heart or burned from out the brain,
 And not denied or cursed, but couldst embrace
 Infinite sweetness in the heart of pain,
 And heardst those universal choirs again
 Wherein like waves of one harmonious sea
 All our slight dreams of heaven are singing still,
 And still the throned Olympians swell the strain,
 And, hark, the burden, of all—Come unto Me!
 Sky into deepening sky
 Melts with that one great cry;
 And the lost doves of Ida moan on Siloa's hill.
XVII
I gather all the ages in my song
 And send them singing up the heights to thee!
 Chord by æonian chord the stars prolong
 Their passionate echoes to Eternity:
 Earth wakes, and one orchestral symphony
 Sweeps o'er the quivering harp-strings of mankind;
 Grief modulates into heaven, hate drowns in love,
 No strife now but of love in that great sea
 Of song! I dream! I dream! Mine eyes grow blind:
 Chords that I not command
 Escape the fainting hand;
 Tears fall. Thou canst not hear. Thou'rt still too far above.
XVIII
Farewell! What word should answer but farewell
 From thee, O happy spirit, whose clear gaze
 Discerned the path—clear, but unsearchable—
 Where Olivet sweetens, deepens, Ida's praise,
 The path that strikes as thro' a sunlit haze Through Time to that clear reconciling height
 Where our commingling gleams of godhead dwell;
 Strikes thro' the turmoil of our darkling days
 To that great harmony where, like light in light,
 Wisdom and Beauty still
 Haunt the thrice-holy hill,
 And Love, immortal Love ... what answer but farewell?

THE ELECTRIC TRAM

I
Bluff and burly and splendid
 Thro' roaring traffic-tides,
 By secret lightnings attended
 The land-ship hisses and glides.
 And I sit on its bridge and I watch and I dream
 While the world goes gallantly by,
 With all its crowded houses and its colored shops a-stream
 Under the June-blue sky,
 Heigh, ho!
 Under the June-blue sky.
II
There's a loafer at the kerb with a sulphur-coloured pile
 Of "Lights! Lights! Lights!" to sell;
 And a flower-girl there with some lilies and a smile
 By the gilt swing-doors of a drinking hell,
 Where the money is rattling loud and fast,
 And I catch one glimpse as the ship swings past
 Of a woman with a babe at her breast
 Wrapped in a ragged shawl;
 She is drinking away with the rest,
 And the sun shines over it all,
 Heigh, ho!
 The sun shines over it all!
III
And a barrel-organ is playing,
 Somewhere, far away,
 Abide with me, and The world is gone a-maying,
 And What will the policeman say?
 There's a glimpse of the river down an alley by a church,
 And the barges with their tawny-coloured sails,
 And a grim and grimy coal-wharf where the London pigeons perch
 And flutter and spread their tails,
 Heigh, ho!
 Flutter and spread their tails.
IV
O, what does it mean, all the pageant and the pity,
 The waste and the wonder and the shame?
 I am riding tow'rds the sunset thro' the vision of a City
 Which we cloak with the stupor of a name!
 I am riding thro' ten thousand thousand tragedies and terrors,
 Ten million heavens that save and hells that damn;
 And the lightning draws my car tow'rds the golden evening star;
 And—They call it only "riding on a tram,"
 Heigh, ho!
 They call it only "riding on a tram."

SHERWOOD

PERSONS OF THE DRAMA

RobinEarl of Huntingdon, known as "Robin Hood."
Little John}
Friar Tuck}
Will Scarlet} Outlaws and followers of "Robin Hood."
Reynold Greenleaf}
Much, the Miller's Son }
Allan-a-Dale}
Prince John.
King Richard, Cœur de Lion.
BlondelKing Richard's minstrel.
OberonKing of the Fairies.
TitaniaQueen of the Fairies.
PuckA Fairy.
The Sheriff of Nottingham.
FitzwalterFather of Marian, known as "Maid Marian."
Shadow-of-a-LeafA Fool.
Arthur PlantagenetNephew to Prince John, a boy of about ten years of age.
Queen ElinorMother of Prince John and Richard Lion-Heart.
Marian FitzwalterKnown as Maid Marian, betrothed to Robin Hood.
JennyMaid to Marian.
Widow ScarletMother of Will Scarlet.
Prioress of Kirklee.
Fairies, merry men, serfs, peasants, mercenaries, an abbot, a baron, a novice, nuns, courtiers, soldiers, retainers, etc.

ACT I

Scene I. Night. The borders of the forest. The smouldering embers of a Saxon homestead. The Sheriff and his men are struggling with a Serf.

SERF
No, no, not that! not that! If you should blind me
 God will repay you. Kill me out of hand!
[Enter Prince John and several of his retainers.]
JOHN
Who is this night-jar?
[The retainers laugh.]
Surely, master Sheriff,
 You should have cut its tongue out, first. Its cries
 Tingle so hideously across the wood
 They'll wake the King in Palestine. Small wonder
 That Robin Hood evades you.
SHERIFF
[To the Serf.]
Silence, dog,
 Know you not better than to make this clamour
 Before Prince John?
SERF
Prince John! It is Prince John!
 For God's love save me, sir!
JOHN
Whose thrall is he?
SHERIFF
I know not, sir, but he was caught red-handed
 Killing the king's deer. By the forest law
 He should of rights be blinded; for, as you see,
[He indicates the Serf's right hand.]
'Tis not his first deer at King Richard's cost.
JOHN
'Twill save you trouble if you say at mine.
SHERIFF
Ay, sir, I pray your pardon—at your cost!
 His right hand lacks the thumb and arrow-finger,
 And though he vows it was a falling tree
 That crushed them, you may trust your Sheriff, sir,
 It was the law that clipped them when he last
 Hunted your deer.
SERF
Prince, when the Conqueror came,
 They burned my father's homestead with the rest
 To make the King a broader hunting-ground.
 I have hunted there for food. How could I bear
 To hear my hungry children crying? Prince,
 They'll make good bowmen for your wars, one day.
JOHN
He is much too fond of 'Prince': he'll never live
 To see a king. Whose thrall?—his iron collar,
 Look, is the name not on it?
SHERIFF
Sir, the name
 Is filed away, and in another hour
 The ring would have been broken. He is one of those
 Green adders of the moon, night-creeping thieves
 Whom Huntingdon has tempted to the woods.
 These desperate ruffians flee their lawful masters
 And flock around the disaffected Earl
 Like ragged rooks around an elm, by scores!
 And now, i' faith, the sun of Huntingdon
 Is setting fast. They've well nigh beggared him,
 Eaten him out of house and home. They say
 That, when we make him outlaw, we shall find
 Nought to distrain upon, but empty cupboards.
JOHN
Did you not serve him once yourself?
SHERIFF
Oh, ay,
 He was more prosperous then. But now my cupboards
 Are full, and his are bare. Well, I'd think scorn
 To share a crust with outcast churls and thieves,
 Doffing his dignity, letting them call him
 Robin, or Robin Hood, as if an Earl
 Were just a plain man, which he will be soon, When we have served our writ of outlawry!
 'Tis said he hopes much from the King's return
 And swears by Lion-Heart; and though King Richard
 Is brother to yourself, 'tis all the more
 Ungracious, sir, to hope he should return,
 And overset your rule. But then—to keep
 Such base communications! Myself would think it
 Unworthy of my sheriffship, much more
 Unworthy a right Earl.
JOHN
You talk too much!
 This whippet, here, slinks at his heel, you say.
 Mercy may close her eyes, then. Take him off,
 Blind him or what you will; and let him thank
 His master for it. But wait—perhaps he knows
 Where we may trap this young patrician thief.
 Where is your master?
SERF
Where you'll never find him.
JOHN
Oh, ho! the dog is faithful! Take him away.
 Get your red business done, I shall require
 Your men to ride with me.
SHERIFF
[To his men.]
Take him out yonder,
 A bow-shot into the wood, so that his clamour
 Do not offend my lord. Delay no time,
 The irons are hot by this. They'll give you light
 Enough to blind him by.
SERF
[Crying out and struggling as he is forced back into the forest.]
No, no, not that!
 God will repay you! Kill me out of hand!
SHERIFF
[To Prince John.]
There is a kind of justice in all this.
 The irons being heated in that fire, my lord,
 Which was his hut, aforetime.
[Some of the men take the glowing irons from the fire and follow into the wood.]
There's no need
 To parley with him, either. The snares are laid
 For Robin Hood. He goes this very night
 To his betrothal feast.
JOHN
Betrothal feast!
SHERIFF
At old Fitzwalter's castle, sir.
JOHN
Ha! ha!
 There will be one more guest there than he thought!
 Ourselves are riding thither. We intended
 My Lady Marian for a happier fate
 Than bride to Robin Hood. Your plans are laid
 To capture him?
SHERIFF
[Consequentially.]
It was our purpose, sir,
 To serve the writ of outlawry upon him
 And capture him as he came forth.
JOHN
That's well.
 Then—let him disappear—you understand?
SHERIFF
I have your warrant, sir? Death? A great Earl?
JOHN
Why, first declare him outlawed at his feast!
 'Twill gladden the tremulous heart of old Fitzwalter
 With his prospective son-in-law; and then—
 No man will overmuch concern himself
 Whither an outlaw goes. You understand?
SHERIFF
It shall be done, sir.
JOHN
But the Lady Marian!
 By heaven, I'll take her. I'll banish old Fitzwalter
 If he prevent my will in this. You'll bring
 How many men to ring the castle round?
SHERIFF
A good five score of bowmen.
JOHN
Then I'll take her
 This very night as hostage for Fitzwalter,
 Since he consorts with outlaws. These grey rats
 Will gnaw my kingdom's heart out. For 'tis mine,
 This England, now or later. They that hold
 By Richard, as their absent king, would make
 My rule a usurpation. God, am I
 My brother's keeper?
[There is a cry in the forest from the Serf, who immediately afterwards appears at the edge of the glade, shaking himself free from his guards. He seizes a weapon and rushes at Prince John. One of the retainers runs him through and he falls at the Prince's feet.]
JOHN
That's a happy answer!
SHERIFF
[Stooping over the body.]
He is dead.
JOHN
I am sorry. It were better sport
 To send him groping like a hoodman blind
 Through Sherwood, whimpering for his Robin. Come,
 I'll ride with you to this betrothal feast.
 Now for my Lady Marian!
[Exeunt all. A pause. The scene darkens. Shadowy figures creep out from the thickets, of old men, women and children.]
FIRST OLD MAN
[Stretching his arms up to Heaven.]
God, am I
 My brother's keeper? Witness, God in heaven,
 He said it and not we—Cain's word, he said it!
FIRST WOMAN
[Kneeling by the body.]
O Father, Father, and the blood of Abel
 Cries to thee!
A BLIND MAN
Is there any light here still?
 I feel a hot breath on my face. The dark
 Is better for us all. I am sometimes glad
 They blinded me those many years ago.
 Princes are princes; and God made the world
 For one or two it seems. Well, I am glad
 I cannot see His world.
FIRST WOMAN
[Still by the body and whispering to the others.]
Keep him away.
 'Tis as we thought. The dead man is his son.
 Keep him away, poor soul. He need not know.
[Some of the men carry the body among the thickets.]
A CHILD
Mother, I'm hungry, I'm hungry!
FIRST OLD MAN
There's no food
 For any of us to-night. The snares are empty,
 And I can try no more.
THE BLIND MAN
Wait till my son
 Comes back. He's a rare hunter is my boy.
 You need not fret, poor little one. My son
 Is much too quick and clever for the Sheriff.
 He'll bring you something good. Why, ha! ha! ha!
 Friends, I've a thought—the Sheriff's lit the fire
 Ready for us to roast our meat. Come, come,
 Let us be merry while we may! My boy
 Will soon come back with food for the old folks.
 The fire burns brightly, eh?
SECOND OLD MAN
The fire that feeds
 On hope and eats our hearts away. They've burnt
 Everything, everything!
THE BLIND MAN
Ah, princes are princes!
 But when the King comes home from the Crusade,
 We shall have better times.
FIRST OLD MAN
Ay, when the King
 Comes home from the Crusade.
CHILD
Mother, I'm hungry.
SECOND WOMAN
Oh, but if I could only find a crust
 Left by the dogs. Masters, the child will starve.
 We must have food.
THE BLIND MAN
I tell you when my boy
 Comes back, we shall have plenty!
FIRST WOMAN
God pity thee!
THE BLIND MAN
What dost thou mean?
SECOND WOMAN
Masters, the child will starve.
FIRST OLD MAN
Hist, who comes here—a forester?
THE BLIND MAN
We'd best
 Slip back into the dark.
FIRST WOMAN
[Excitedly.]
No, stay! All's well.
 There's Shadow-of-a-Leaf, good Lady Marian's fool
 Beside him!
THE BLIND MAN
Ah, they say there's fairy blood
 In Shadow-of-a-Leaf. But I've no hopes of more
 From him, than wild bees' honey-bags.
[Enter Little John, a giant figure, leading a donkey, laden with a sack. On the other side, Shadow-of-a-Leaf trips, a slender figure in green trunk-hose and doublet. He is tickling the donkey's ears with a long fern.]
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
Gee! Whoa!
 Neddy, my boy, have you forgot the Weaver,
 And how Titania tickled your long ears?
 Ha! ha! Don't ferns remind you?
LITTLE JOHN
Friends, my master
 Hath sent me to you, fearing ye might hunger.
FIRST OLD MAN
Thy master?
LITTLE JOHN
Robin Hood.
SECOND WOMAN
[Falling on her knees.]
God bless his name.
 God bless the kindly name of Robin Hood.
LITTLE JOHN
[Giving them food.]
'Tis well nigh all that's left him; and to-night
 He goes to his betrothal feast.
[All the outcasts except the first old man exeunt.]
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
[Pointing to the donkey.]
Now look,
 There's nothing but that shadow of a cross
 On his grey back to tell you of the palms
 That once were strewn before my Lord, the King.
 Won't ferns, won't branching ferns, do just as well?
 There's only a dream to ride my donkey now!
 But, Neddy, I'll lead you home and cry—Hosanna!
 We'll thread the glad Gate Beautiful again,
 Though now there's only a Fool to hold your bridle
 And only moonlit ferns to strew your path,
 And the great King is fighting for a grave
 In lands beyond the sea. Come, Neddy, come,
 Hosanna!
[Exit Shadow-of-a-Leaf with the donkey. He strews ferns before it as he goes.]
FIRST OLD MAN
'Tis a strange creature, master! Thinkest
 There's fairy blood in him?
LITTLE JOHN
'Twas he that brought
 Word of your plight to Robin Hood. He flits
 Like Moonshine thro' the forest. He'll be home
 Before I know it. I must be hastening back.
 This makes a sad betrothal night.
FIRST OLD MAN
That minds me,
 Couched in the thicket yonder, we overheard
 The Sheriff tell Prince John....
LITTLE JOHN
Prince John!
FIRST OLD MAN
You'd best
 Warn Robin Hood. They're laying a trap for him.
 Ay! Now I mind me of it! I heard 'em say
 They'd take him at the castle.
LITTLE JOHN
To-night?
FIRST OLD MAN
To-night!
 Fly, lad, for God's dear love. Warn Robin Hood!
 Fly like the wind, or you'll be there too late.
 And yet you'd best be careful. There's five score
 In ambush round the castle.
LITTLE JOHN
I'll be there
 An if I have to break five hundred heads!
[He rushes off thro' the forest. The old man goes into the thicket after the others. The scene darkens. A soft light, as of the moon, appears between the ferns to the right of the glade, showing Oberon and Titania.]
TITANIA
Yet one night more the gates of fairyland
 Are opened by a mortal's kindly deed.
OBERON
Last night the gates were shut, and I heard weeping!
 Men, women, children, beat upon the gates
 That guard our happy world. They could not sleep.
 Titania, must not that be terrible,
 When mortals cannot sleep?
TITANIA
Yet one night more
 Dear Robin Hood has opened the gates wide
 And their poor weary souls can enter in.
OBERON
Yet one night more we woodland elves may steal
 Out thro' the gates. I fear the time will come
 When they must close for ever; and we no more
 Shall hold our Sherwood revels.
TITANIA
Only love
 And love's kind sacrifice can open them.
 For when a mortal hurts himself to help
 Another, then he thrusts the gates wide open
 Between his world and ours.
OBERON
Ay, but that's rare,
 That kind of love, Titania, for the gates
 Are almost always closed.
TITANIA
Yet one night more!
 Hark, how the fairy host begins to sing
 Within the gates. Wait here and we shall see
 What weary souls by grace of Robin Hood
 This night shall enter Dreamland. See, they come!
[The soft light deepens in the hollow among the ferns and the ivory gates of Dreamland are seen swinging open. The fairy host is heard, singing to invite the mortals to enter.]
[Song of the fairies.]
The Forest shall conquer! The Forest shall conquer! The Forest shall conquer!
 Your world is growing old;
 But a Princess sleeps in the greenwood,
 Whose hair is brighter than gold.
The Forest shall conquer! The Forest shall conquer! The Forest shall conquer!
 O hearts that bleed and burn,
 Her lips are redder than roses,
 Who sleeps in the faëry fern.
The Forest shall conquer! The Forest shall conquer! The Forest shall conquer!
 By the Beauty that wakes anew
 Milk-white with the fragrant hawthorn
 In the drip of the dawn-red dew.
The Forest shall conquer! The Forest shall conquer! The Forest shall conquer!
 O hearts that are weary of pain,
 Come back to your home in Faërie
 And wait till she wakes again.
[The victims of the forest-laws steal out of the thicket once more—dark, distorted, lame, blind, serfs with iron collars roun their necks, old men, women and children; and as the fairy song breaks into chorus they pass in procession thro' the beautiful gates. The gates slowly close. The fairy song is heard as dying away in the distance.]
TITANIA
[Coming out into the glade and holding up her hands to the evening star beyond the tree-tops.]
Shine, shine, dear star of Love, yet one night more.

Scene II. A banqueting hall in Fitzwalter's castle. The guests are assembling for the betrothal feast of Robin and Marian. Some of Robin Hood's men, clad in Lincoln green, are just arriving at the doors. Shadow-of-a-Leaf runs forward to greet them.