792 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Dec. 21, 1912 
FOUNTAIN ABBEY, YORKSHIRE. 
Scene of Robin Hood and Friar Tuck episode. 
ROOM WHERE ROBIN HOOD WAS BLED TO DEATH BY ELIZABETH DE STAINTON. 
This room has not been changed or occupied since Robin Hood’s death. 
From wealthy abbot’s chests and churl’s abundant store, 
What oftimes he took he shared amongst the poor. 
No lordly bishop came in Robin’s way, 
To him before he went, but for his pass must pay. 
The widow in distress he graciously relieved. 
And remedied the wrongs of many a virgin grieved. 
He from the husband’s bed no married woman wan, 
But to his mistress dear, his loved Marian 
Was ever constant known, which wheresoe’er she came. 
Was sovereign of the wood’s chief lady of the game. 
Her clothes tucked to the knee, and dainty braided hair, 
With bow and quiver armed she wandered here and there 
Amongst the forest wild; Diana never knew 
Such pleasures nor such hearts as Mariana slew.” 
In Arnot’s “History of Edinburgh” we are 
told that in Scotland the game of Robin Hood 
was celebrated in the month of May for hun¬ 
dreds of years; indeed, he seems to have been 
the very foundation of May gatherings and May 
pole dances all over Great Britain. King Henry 
III. sent many expeditions to capture him and 
his band, but all failed for the reason that every 
poor man or woman was Robin's friend, and he 
was always warned in good time of the approach 
of any enemy. At length the infirmities of old 
age increased upon him, and in a fit of sickness 
he was desirous to be relieved by being bled, 
“which was a common custom then, and even 
down within sixty years ago in the North of 
England.” He, therefore, went to his kins¬ 
woman, the prioress of Kirklees nunnery for 
women, and particularly those connected with 
religious houses were at that time' skilled in 
surgery. By her he was treacherously suffered 
to bleed to death at the instigation, it is said, 
of Sir Roger of Doncaster, a Knight who was 
hostile to our hero, and to whom the prioress 
was attached as paramour. He was interred 
under some trees a short distance from the 
house. When Robin felt that he was growing 
weak and found the door was locked, he at once 
suspected treachery, and he put his horn to his 
mouth and blew as best he could. Little John, 
faithful and affectionate to the last, was hover¬ 
ing near the woods, and when his quick ear 
caught the well-known sound of his master’s 
horn, “I fear my master is nearly dead,” he 
said; “he blows so weakly,” he hurried to the 
nunnery gate, and not being able to gain ad¬ 
mittance, he broke several locks and at last 
found his way to his master’s room. When he 
saw how matters stood, he wanted to burn down 
the priory then and there, but Robin would not 
hear of it. When Robin saw that his end was 
near, he called for his bow and arrows and 
ordered the casement window opened and said 
he would shoot his last arrow, and wherever it 
dropped, they were to dig his grave. 
This short dirge that I committed to memory 
forty years ago describes the last hours of Robin : 
His pulse was faint, his eyes were dim. 
And pale his brows of pride; 
He heeded not the Monkish hymn 
They chanted by his side. 
He knew his parting hour was come, 
And fancy wandered now 
To freedom’s free and happy home 
Beneath the forest bough. 
A faithful follower, standing by. 
Asked where he would be laid; 
Then round the Chieftain’s languid eye 
A lingering luster played. 
“Now raise me on my dying bed; 
Bring here my trusty bow; 
And ere I join the silent dead, 
My arm that spot shall show.” 
They raised him on his couch, and set 
The casement open wide. 
Once more with fain and fond regret, 
Fair nature’s face he eyed; 
With kindling glance and throbbing heart, 
One parting look he cast, 
Sped on its way the feathered dart, 
Sank back and breathed his last. 
And where it fell they dug his grave. 
Beneath the greenwood tree, 
Meet resting place for one so brave, 
So lawless, frank and free. 
Very beautiful for situation is the Kirklees 
burial place of the bold outlaw. The umbrageous 
and stately woods, wearing their summer garb 
of many-hued leaves and glistening under the 
brilliance of golden sunlight, are perhaps never 
seen to better advantage than at the fall of the 
year. 
The dense and variegated undergrowth of 
bracken and fern and varicolored grasses, the 
songs of the birds, the ripple of the pellucid 
trout stream as it meanders through the spacious 
(Continued on page 802.) 
