Robin and Malkin

Robert Henryson 1425 – 1500



Robene sat on gud grene hill,
      Kepand a flok of fe;
    Mirry Makyne said him till,
      "Robene, thow rew on me;
    I haif the luvit lowd and still,
      Thir yeiris two or thre;
    My dule in dern bot gif thow dill,
      Dowtless but dreid I de."

    Robene answerit, "Be the rude,
      Nathing of lufe I knaw,
  Bot keipis my scheip undir yone wid,
      Lo quhair they raik on raw:
  Quhat hes marrit the in thy mude,
      Makyne, to me thow schaw;
  Or quhat is lufe, or to be lude?
      Fane wald I leir that law."

    "At luvis lair gife thow will leir,
      Tak thair ane a b c;
  Be heynd, courtass, and fair of feir,
      Wyse, hardy, and fre;
  So that no denger do the deir,
      Quhat dule in dern thow dre;
  Preiss the with pane at all poweir,
      Be patient and previe."

    Robene anserit hir agane,
      "I wait nocht quhat is luve;
  But I haif mervell in certane
      Quhat makis the this wanrufe:
  The weddir is fair, and I am fane,
      My scheip gois haill aboif;
  And we wald play us in this plane,
      Thay wald us bayth reproif."

    "Robene, tak tent unto my taill,
      And wirk all as I reid,
  And thow sall haif my hairt all haill,
      Eik and my maidenheid.
  Sen God sendis bute for baill
      And for murnyng remeid,
  In dern with the bot gif I daill,
      Dowtles I am bot deid."

    "Makyne, to morne this ilk a tyde,
      And ye will meit me heir,--
  Peraventure my scheip may gang besyd,
      Quhill we haif liggit full neir;
  Bot mawgre haif I and I byd,
      Fra thay begin to steir;
  Quhat lyis on hairt I will nocht hyd;
      Makyn, than mak gud cheir."

    "Robene, thow reivis me roif and rest;
      I luve bot the allane."
  "Makyne, adew, the sone gois west,
      The day is neir hand gane."
  "Robene, in dule I am so drest,
      That lufe wilbe my bane."
  "Ga lufe, Makyne, quhair evir thow list,
      For lemman I lue nane."

    "Robene, I stand in sic a styll;
      I sicht, and that full sair."
  "Makyne, I haif bene heir this quhyle;
      At hame God gif I wair."
  "My huny, Robene, talk ane quhyle,
      Gif thow will do na mair."
  "Makyne, sum uthir man begyle,
      For hamewart I will fair."

    Robene on his wayis went
      Als licht as leif of tre;
  Mawkin murnit in hir intent,
      And trowd him nevir to se.
  Robene brayd attour the bent;
      Than Mawkyne cryit on hie,
  "Now ma thow sing, for I am schent!
      Quhat alis lufe at me?"

    Mawkyne went hame withowttin faill,
      Full wery eftir cowth weip.
  Than Robene in a ful fair daill
      Assemblit all his scheip.
  Be that sum pairte of Mawkynis aill
      Outthrow his hairt cowd creip;
  He fallowit hir fast thair till assaill,
      And till hir tuke gude keip.

    "Abyd, abyd, thow fair Makyne,
      A word for ony thing;
  For all my luve it sal be thyne,
      Withowttin depairting.
  All haill thy harte for till haif myne
      Is all my cuvating;
  My scheip to morne quhill houris nyne
      Will neid of no keping."

    "Robene, thow hes hard soung and say,
      In gestis and storeis auld,
  'The man that will nocht quhen he may
      Sall haif nocht quhen he wald.'
  I pray to Jesu every day
      Mot eik thair cairis cauld,
  That first preissis with the to play,
      Be firth, forrest, or fauld."

    "Makyne, the nicht is soft and dry,
      The wedder is warme and fair,
  And the grene woid rycht neir us by
      To walk attour all quhair;
  Thair ma na janglour us espy,
      That is to lufe contrair;
  Thairin, Makyne, bath ye and I
      Unsene we ma repair."

    "Robene, that warld is all away
      And quyt brocht till ane end,
  And nevir agane thairto perfay
      Sall it be as thow wend;
  For of my pane thow maid it play,
      And all in vane I spend;
  As thow hes done, sa sall I say,
      Murne on, I think to mend."

    "Mawkyne, the howp of all my heill,
      My hairt on the is sett,
  And evirmair to the be leill,
      Quhill I may leif but lett;
  Nevir to faill, as utheris feill,
      Quhat grace that evir I gett."
  "Robene, with the I will nocht deill;
      Adew, for t
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

3:34 min read
48

Quick analysis:

Scheme ABACADAC EFEDEXEX DCDDDDDB FBFBFBFB AXAEAEAE EDEDEDED GFGFEFXF ADADADAD HBHXHXEC AIAIAIAI FJFJFJFJ BKBKBEBE DDLDCDLD BMBMBMBM AEAXAEAC
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 3,997
Words 734
Stanzas 15
Stanza Lengths 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8

Robert Henryson

Robert Henryson was a poet who flourished in Scotland in the period c. 1460–1500. Counted among the Scots makars, he lived in the royal burgh of Dunfermline and is a distinctive voice in the Northern Renaissance at a time when the culture was on a cusp between medieval and renaissance sensibilities. Little is known of his life, but evidence suggests that he was a teacher who had training in law and the humanities, that he had a connection with Dunfermline Abbey and that he may also have been associated for a period with Glasgow University. His poetry was composed in Middle Scots at a time when this had become a state language. It is one of the most important bodies of work in the canon of early Scottish literature. His writing consists mainly of narrative works highly inventive in their development of story-telling techniques. He generally achieved a canny balance of humour and high seriousness which is often multi-layered in its effects. This is especially so in his Morall Fabillis, in which he expresses a consistent but complex world view that seems standard, on the surface, vis a vis the major ruling power of the church, while containing critical and questioning elements. more…

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