“‘Tis the last!” he murmured, “tell the brave hearts to lay me there with the green sod under my head and feet. And--let them lay--my bent bow at my side, for it has made sweet music in mine ears.”
He rested a moment, and Little John scarce knew that he was alive. But on a sudden Robin’s eye brightened, and he seemed to think himself back once more with the band in the open forest glade. He struggled to rise.
“Ha! ‘tis a fine stag, Will! And Allan, thou never didst thrum the harp more sweetly. How the light blazes! And Marian!--‘tis my Marian--come at last!”
So died the body of Robin Hood; but his spirit lives on through the centuries in the deathless ballads which are sung of him, and in the hearts of men who love freedom and chivalry.
They buried him where his last arrow had fallen, and they set a stone to mark the spot. And on the stone were graven these words:
“Here underneath his little stone Lies Robert, Earl of Huntingdon; Never archer as he so good, And people called him Robin Hood. Such outlaws as he and his men Will England never see again.”
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Robin Hood, by J. Walker McSpadden