[The version here printed differs but slightly from the one in the Folio MS. (ed. Hales and Furnivall, 1868, vol. iii. p. 76), and as the latter is of no critical value it has been thought unnecessary to point out the various readings. A fragment of an older edition than Copland's mentioned above has been recovered by Mr. Payne Collier, which is attributed to the press of Wynkyn de Worde by Mr. W. C. Hazlitt.This spirited ballad is mentioned by Laneham in his Catalogue of Captain Cox's ballads, and the various editions it has passed through, and the frequent references to it in literature, prove its great and deserved popularity.The circumstances of the second Fit resemble closely the rescue of Robin Hood by Little John, as related in "Robin Hood and the Monk," and the incident of the shot at the apple in the third Fit bears a curious likeness to the very ancient myth which is associated with William Tell. "Allane Bell" is mentioned by Dunbar in company with Robin Hood, Guy of Gisborne, and others, which proves that in his time these names had become mere abstractions.]
[The version here printed differs but slightly from the one in the Folio MS. (ed. Hales and Furnivall, 1868, vol. iii. p. 76), and as the latter is of no critical value it has been thought unnecessary to point out the various readings. A fragment of an older edition than Copland's mentioned above has been recovered by Mr. Payne Collier, which is attributed to the press of Wynkyn de Worde by Mr. W. C. Hazlitt.
This spirited ballad is mentioned by Laneham in his Catalogue of Captain Cox's ballads, and the various editions it has passed through, and the frequent references to it in literature, prove its great and deserved popularity.
The circumstances of the second Fit resemble closely the rescue of Robin Hood by Little John, as related in "Robin Hood and the Monk," and the incident of the shot at the apple in the third Fit bears a curious likeness to the very ancient myth which is associated with William Tell. "Allane Bell" is mentioned by Dunbar in company with Robin Hood, Guy of Gisborne, and others, which proves that in his time these names had become mere abstractions.]
Mery it was in the grene forestAmonge the levès grene,Wheras men hunt east and westWyth bowes and arrowes kene;To raise the dere out of theyr denne;5Suche fightes hath ofte bene sene;As by thre yemen of the north countrèy,By them it is I meane.The one of them hight Adam Bel,The other Clym of the Clough,[685]10The thyrd was William of Cloudesly,An archer good ynough.They were outlawed for venyson,These yemen everych-one;They swore them brethren upon a day,15To Englyshe wood for to gone.Now lith[686]and lysten, gentylmen,That of myrthes loveth to here:Two of them were single men,The third had a wedded fere.[687]20Wyllyam was the wedded man,Muche more then was hys care:He sayde to hys brethren upon a day,To Carleile he would fare;[688]For to speke with fayre Alyce his wife,25And with hys chyldren thre.By my trouth, sayde Adam Bel,Not by the counsell of me:For if ye go to Carlile, brother,And from thys wylde wode wende,[689]30If that the justice may you take,Your lyfe were at an ende.If that I come not to-morowe, brother,By pryme[690]to you agayne,Truste you then that I am 'taken,'[691]35Or else that I am slayne.He toke hys leave of hys brethren two,And to Carlile he is gon:There he knocked at his owne windòweShortlye and anone.40Wher be you, fayre Alyce, he sayd,My wife and chyldren three?Lyghtly let in thyne owne husbànde,Wyllyam of Cloudeslee.Alas! then sayde fayre Alyce,45And syghed wonderous sore,Thys place hath ben besette for youThys halfe a yere and more.Now am I here, sayde Cloudeslee,I would that in I were.50Now fetche us meate and drynke ynoughe,And let us make good chere.She fetched hym meate and drynke plentye,Lyke a true wedded wyfe;And pleased hym with that she had,55Whome she loved as her lyfe.There lay an old wyfe in that place,A lytle besyde the fyre,Whych Wyllyam had found of charytyèMore than seven yere.60Up she rose, and forth shee goes,Evill mote[692]shee speede therfore;For shee had sett no foote on groundIn seven yere before.She went unto the justice hall,65As fast as she could hye:Thys night, shee sayd, is come to townWyllyam of Cloudeslyè.Thereof the justice was full fayne,[693]And so was the shirife also.70Thou shalt not trauaile hither, dame, for nought,Thy meed thou shalt have ere thou go.They gave to her a ryght good goune,Of scarlate, 'and of graine':She toke the gyft, and home she wente,75And couched her doune agayne.They raysed the towne of mery CarleileIn all the haste they can;And came thronging to Wyllyames house,As fast as they might gone.80There they besette that good yemànRound about on every syde:Wyllyam hearde great noyse of folkes,That thither-ward fast hyed.Alyce opened a backe wyndòwe,[694]85And loked all aboute,She was ware of the justice and shirife bothe,Wyth a full great route.[695]Alas! treason, cryed Alyce,Ever wo may thou be!90Goe into my chamber, my husband, she sayd,Swete Wyllyam of Cloudeslee.He toke hys sword and hys bucler,Hys bow and hys chyldren thre,And wente into hys strongest chamber,95Where he thought surest to be.Fayre Alyce, like a lover true,Took a pollaxe in her hande:Said, He shall dye that cometh inThys dore, whyle I may stand.100Cloudeslee bente a right good bowe,That was of a trusty tre,He smot the justise on the brest,That hys arowe burst in three.'A' curse on his harte, saide William,105Thys day thy cote dyd on!If it had ben no better then myne,It had gone nere thy bone.Yelde the Cloudeslè, sayd the justise,And thy bowe and thy arrowes the fro.[696]110'A' curse on hys hart, sayd fair Alyce,That my husband councelleth so.Set fyre on the house, saide the sherife,Syth it wyll no better be,And brenne[697]we therin William, he saide,115Hys wyfe and chyldren thre.They fyred the house in many a place,The fyre flew up on hye:Alas! then cryed fayre Alìce,I se we here shall dye.120William openyd a backe wyndòw,That was in hys chamber hie,And there with sheetes he did let downeHis wyfe and children three.Have you here my treasure, sayde William,125My wyfe and my chyldren thre:For Christès love do them no harme,But wreke you all on me.Wyllyam shot so wonderous well,Tyll hys arrowes were all agoe,130And the fyre so fast upon hym fell,That hys bowstryng brent[698]in two.The sparkles brent and fell uponGood Wyllyam of Cloudeslè:Than was he a wofull man, and sayde,135Thys is a cowardes death to me.Leever[699]had I, sayde Wyllyam,With my sworde in the route to renne,[700]Then here among myne enemyes wode[701]Thus cruelly to bren.140He toke hys sword and hys buckler,And among them all he ran,Where the people were most in prece,[702]He smot downe many a man.There myght no man abyde hys stroakes,145So fersly[703]on them he ran:Then they threw wyndowes, and dores on him,And so toke that good yemàn.There they hym bounde both hand and fote,And in a deepe dungeon him cast:150Now Cloudesle, sayd the justice,[704]Thou shalt be hanged in hast.'A payre of new gallowes, sayd the sherife,[705]Now shal I for thee make;'And the gates of Carleil shal be shutte:155No man shal come in therat.Then shall not helpe Clym of the Cloughe,Nor yet shall Adam Bell,Though they came with a thousand mo,Nor all the devels in hell.160Early in the mornynge the justice uprose,To the gates first can he gone,And commaunded to be shut full closeLightilè[706]everych-one.Then went he to the markett place,165As fast as he coulde hye;There a payre of new gallowes he set upBesyde the pyllorye.A lytle boy 'among them asked,'What meaned that gallow-tre?170They sayde to hange a good yemàn,Called Wyllyam of Cloudeslè.That lytle boye was the towne swyne-heard,And kept fayre Alyces swyne;Oft he had seene William in the wodde,175And geuen hym there to dyne.He went out att a crevis of the wall,And lightly to the woode dyd gone;There met he with these wightye[707]yemen[708]Shortly and anone.180Alas! then sayde the lytle boye,Ye tary here all too longe;Cloudeslee is taken, and dampned[709]to death,And readye for to honge.[710]Alas! then sayd good Adam Bell,185That ever we saw thys daye!He had better have tarryed with us,So ofte as we dyd hym praye.He myght have dwelt in grene forèste,Under the shadowes greene,[711]190And have kepte both hym and us att reste,Out of all trouble and teene.[712]Adam bent a ryght good bow,A great hart sone hee had slayne:Take that, chylde, he sayde, to thy dynner,195And bryng me myne arrowe agayne.Now go we hence, sayed these wightye yeomen,[713]Tarry we no longer here;We shall hym borowe[714]by God his grace,Though we buy itt full dere.200To Caerleil wente these bold yemen,All in a mornyng of maye.Here is aFYTof Cloudeslye,And another is for to saye.
Mery it was in the grene forestAmonge the levès grene,Wheras men hunt east and westWyth bowes and arrowes kene;
To raise the dere out of theyr denne;5Suche fightes hath ofte bene sene;As by thre yemen of the north countrèy,By them it is I meane.
The one of them hight Adam Bel,The other Clym of the Clough,[685]10The thyrd was William of Cloudesly,An archer good ynough.
They were outlawed for venyson,These yemen everych-one;They swore them brethren upon a day,15To Englyshe wood for to gone.
Now lith[686]and lysten, gentylmen,That of myrthes loveth to here:Two of them were single men,The third had a wedded fere.[687]20
Wyllyam was the wedded man,Muche more then was hys care:He sayde to hys brethren upon a day,To Carleile he would fare;[688]
For to speke with fayre Alyce his wife,25And with hys chyldren thre.By my trouth, sayde Adam Bel,Not by the counsell of me:
For if ye go to Carlile, brother,And from thys wylde wode wende,[689]30If that the justice may you take,Your lyfe were at an ende.
If that I come not to-morowe, brother,By pryme[690]to you agayne,Truste you then that I am 'taken,'[691]35Or else that I am slayne.
He toke hys leave of hys brethren two,And to Carlile he is gon:There he knocked at his owne windòweShortlye and anone.40
Wher be you, fayre Alyce, he sayd,My wife and chyldren three?Lyghtly let in thyne owne husbànde,Wyllyam of Cloudeslee.
Alas! then sayde fayre Alyce,45And syghed wonderous sore,Thys place hath ben besette for youThys halfe a yere and more.
Now am I here, sayde Cloudeslee,I would that in I were.50Now fetche us meate and drynke ynoughe,And let us make good chere.
She fetched hym meate and drynke plentye,Lyke a true wedded wyfe;And pleased hym with that she had,55Whome she loved as her lyfe.
There lay an old wyfe in that place,A lytle besyde the fyre,Whych Wyllyam had found of charytyèMore than seven yere.60
Up she rose, and forth shee goes,Evill mote[692]shee speede therfore;For shee had sett no foote on groundIn seven yere before.
She went unto the justice hall,65As fast as she could hye:Thys night, shee sayd, is come to townWyllyam of Cloudeslyè.
Thereof the justice was full fayne,[693]And so was the shirife also.70Thou shalt not trauaile hither, dame, for nought,Thy meed thou shalt have ere thou go.
They gave to her a ryght good goune,Of scarlate, 'and of graine':She toke the gyft, and home she wente,75And couched her doune agayne.
They raysed the towne of mery CarleileIn all the haste they can;And came thronging to Wyllyames house,As fast as they might gone.80
There they besette that good yemànRound about on every syde:Wyllyam hearde great noyse of folkes,That thither-ward fast hyed.
Alyce opened a backe wyndòwe,[694]85And loked all aboute,She was ware of the justice and shirife bothe,Wyth a full great route.[695]
Alas! treason, cryed Alyce,Ever wo may thou be!90Goe into my chamber, my husband, she sayd,Swete Wyllyam of Cloudeslee.
He toke hys sword and hys bucler,Hys bow and hys chyldren thre,And wente into hys strongest chamber,95Where he thought surest to be.
Fayre Alyce, like a lover true,Took a pollaxe in her hande:Said, He shall dye that cometh inThys dore, whyle I may stand.100
Cloudeslee bente a right good bowe,That was of a trusty tre,He smot the justise on the brest,That hys arowe burst in three.
'A' curse on his harte, saide William,105Thys day thy cote dyd on!If it had ben no better then myne,It had gone nere thy bone.
Yelde the Cloudeslè, sayd the justise,And thy bowe and thy arrowes the fro.[696]110'A' curse on hys hart, sayd fair Alyce,That my husband councelleth so.
Set fyre on the house, saide the sherife,Syth it wyll no better be,And brenne[697]we therin William, he saide,115Hys wyfe and chyldren thre.
They fyred the house in many a place,The fyre flew up on hye:Alas! then cryed fayre Alìce,I se we here shall dye.120
William openyd a backe wyndòw,That was in hys chamber hie,And there with sheetes he did let downeHis wyfe and children three.
Have you here my treasure, sayde William,125My wyfe and my chyldren thre:For Christès love do them no harme,But wreke you all on me.
Wyllyam shot so wonderous well,Tyll hys arrowes were all agoe,130And the fyre so fast upon hym fell,That hys bowstryng brent[698]in two.
The sparkles brent and fell uponGood Wyllyam of Cloudeslè:Than was he a wofull man, and sayde,135Thys is a cowardes death to me.
Leever[699]had I, sayde Wyllyam,With my sworde in the route to renne,[700]Then here among myne enemyes wode[701]Thus cruelly to bren.140
He toke hys sword and hys buckler,And among them all he ran,Where the people were most in prece,[702]He smot downe many a man.
There myght no man abyde hys stroakes,145So fersly[703]on them he ran:Then they threw wyndowes, and dores on him,And so toke that good yemàn.
There they hym bounde both hand and fote,And in a deepe dungeon him cast:150Now Cloudesle, sayd the justice,[704]Thou shalt be hanged in hast.
'A payre of new gallowes, sayd the sherife,[705]Now shal I for thee make;'And the gates of Carleil shal be shutte:155No man shal come in therat.
Then shall not helpe Clym of the Cloughe,Nor yet shall Adam Bell,Though they came with a thousand mo,Nor all the devels in hell.160
Early in the mornynge the justice uprose,To the gates first can he gone,And commaunded to be shut full closeLightilè[706]everych-one.
Then went he to the markett place,165As fast as he coulde hye;There a payre of new gallowes he set upBesyde the pyllorye.
A lytle boy 'among them asked,'What meaned that gallow-tre?170They sayde to hange a good yemàn,Called Wyllyam of Cloudeslè.
That lytle boye was the towne swyne-heard,And kept fayre Alyces swyne;Oft he had seene William in the wodde,175And geuen hym there to dyne.
He went out att a crevis of the wall,And lightly to the woode dyd gone;There met he with these wightye[707]yemen[708]Shortly and anone.180
Alas! then sayde the lytle boye,Ye tary here all too longe;Cloudeslee is taken, and dampned[709]to death,And readye for to honge.[710]
Alas! then sayd good Adam Bell,185That ever we saw thys daye!He had better have tarryed with us,So ofte as we dyd hym praye.
He myght have dwelt in grene forèste,Under the shadowes greene,[711]190And have kepte both hym and us att reste,Out of all trouble and teene.[712]
Adam bent a ryght good bow,A great hart sone hee had slayne:Take that, chylde, he sayde, to thy dynner,195And bryng me myne arrowe agayne.
Now go we hence, sayed these wightye yeomen,[713]Tarry we no longer here;We shall hym borowe[714]by God his grace,Though we buy itt full dere.200
To Caerleil wente these bold yemen,All in a mornyng of maye.Here is aFYTof Cloudeslye,And another is for to saye.
And when they came to mery Carleile,All in 'the' mornyng tyde,They founde the gates shut them untyll[715]About on every syde.Alas! then sayd good Adam Bell,5That ever we were made men!These gates be shut so wonderous fast,We may not come therein.Then bespake him Clym of the Clough,Wyth a wyle we wyl us in bryng;10Let us saye we be messengers,Streyght come nowe from our king.Adam said, I have a letter written,Now let us wysely werke,We wyl saye we have the kynges seale;15I holde the porter no clerke.Then Adam Bell bete on the gatesWith strokes great and stronge:The porter marveiled, who was therat,And to the gates he thronge.[716]20Who is there now, sayde the porter,That maketh all thys knockinge?We be tow messengers, quoth Clim of the Clough,Be come ryght from our kyng.We have a letter, sayd Adam Bel,25To the justice we must itt bryng;Let us in our message to do,That we were agayne to the kyng.Here commeth none in, sayd the porter,By hym that dyed on a tre,30Tyll a false thefe be hanged,Called Wyllyam of Cloudeslè.Then spake the good yeman Clym of the Clough,And swore by Mary fre,And if that we stande long wythout,35Like a thefe hanged shalt thou be.Lo! here we have the kynges seale:What, Lurden,[717]art thou wode?[718][719]The porter went[720]it had ben so,And lyghtly dyd off hys hode.[721]40Welcome is my lordes seale, he saide;For that ye shall come in.He opened the gate full shortlye:An euyl openyng for him.Now are we in, sayde Adam Bell,45Wherof we are full faine;[722]But Christ he knowes, that harowed[723]hell,How we shall com out agayne.Had we the keys, said Clim of the Clough,Ryght wel then shoulde we spede,50Then might we come out wel ynoughWhen we se tyme and nede.They called the porter to counsell,And wrang his necke in two,And caste hym in a depe dungeon,55And toke hys keys hym fro.Now am I porter, sayd Adam Bel,Se brother the keys are here,The worst porter to merry CarleileThat 'the' had thys hundred yere.60And now wyll we our bowes bend,Into the towne wyll we go,For to delyuer our dere brothèr,That lyeth in care and wo.Then they bent theyr good ewe bowes,65And loked theyr stringes were round,[724]The markett place in mery CarleileThey beset that stound.[725]And, as they loked them besyde,A paire of new galowes 'they' see,70And the justice with a quest[726]of squyers,That judged William hanged to be.And Cloudeslè lay redy there in a cart,Fast bound both fote and hand;And a stronge rop about hys necke,75All readye for to hange.The justice called to him a ladde,Cloudeslees clothes hee shold have,To take the measure of that yemàn,Therafter to make hys grave.80I have sene as great mervaile, said Cloudesle,As betweyne thys and pryme,He that maketh a grave for mee,Hymselfe may lye therin.Thou speakest proudlye, said the justice,85I will thee hange with my hande.Full wel herd this his brethren two,There styll as they dyd stande.Then Cloudeslè cast his eyen asyde,And saw hys 'brethren twaine'90At a corner of the market place,Redy the justice for to slaine.I se comfort, sayd Cloudeslè,Yet hope I well to fare,If I might have my handes at wyll95Ryght lytle wolde I care.Then spake good Adam BellTo Clym of the Clough so free,Brother, se you marke the justyce wel;Lo! yonder you may him se:100And at the shyrife shote I wyllStrongly wyth an arrowe kene;A better shote in mery CarleileThys seven yere was not sene.They loosed their arrowes both at once,[727]105Of no man had they dread;The one hyt the justice, the other the sheryfe,That both theyr sides gan blede.[728]All men voyded,[729]that them stode nye,When the justice fell to the grounde,110And the sherife nye hym by;Eyther had his deathes wounde.All the citezens fast gan flye,They durst no longer abyde:There lyghtly they losed Cloudeslee,115Where he with ropes lay tyde.Wyllyam start to an officer of the towne,Hys axe 'from' hys hand he wronge,On eche syde he smote them downe,Hee thought he taryed to long.120Wyllyam sayde to hys brethren two,Thys daye let us lyve and die,If ever you have nede, as I have now,The same shall you finde by me.They shot so well in that tyde,125Theyr stringes were of silke ful sure,That they kept the stretes on every side;That batayle did long endure.They fought together as brethren true,Lyke hardy men and bolde,130Many a man to the ground they threw,And many a herte made colde.But when their arrowes were all gon,Men preced[730]to them full fast,They drew theyr swordès then anone,135And theyr bowes from them cast.They went lyghtlye on theyr way,Wyth swordes and buclers round;By that it was mydd of the day,They made many a wound.140There was an out-horne[731]in Carleil blowen,And the belles backwàrd dyd ryng,Many a woman sayde, Alas!And many theyr handes dyd wryng.The mayre of Carleile forth com was,145Wyth hym a ful great route:[732]These yemen dred hym full sore,Of theyr lyves they stode in great doute.[733][734]The mayre came armed a full great pace,With a pollaxe in hys hande;150Many a strong man wyth him was,There in that stowre[735]to stande.The mayre smot at Cloudeslee with his bil,[736]Hys bucler he brast[737]in two,Full many a yeman with great evyll,155Alas! Treason they cryed for wo.Kepe well the gates fast, they bad,That these traytours therout not go.But al for nought was that they wrought,For so fast they downe were layde,160Tyll they all thre, that so manfulli fought,Were gotten without, abraide.[738]Have here your keys, sayd Adam Bel,Myne office I here forsake,And yf you do by my counsell165A new porter do ye make.He threw theyr keys at theyr heads,And bad them well to thryve,[739]And all that letteth any good yemanTo come and comfort his wyfe.170Thus be these good yeman gon to the wodAs lyghtly, as lefe on lynde;[740]The lough and be mery in theyr mode,Theyr enemyes were ferr behynd.When they came to Englyshe wode,[741]175Under the trusty tre,There they found bowes full good,And arrowes full great plentye.So God me help, sayd Adam Bell,And Clym of the Clough so fre,180I would we were in mery Carleile,Before that fayre meynye.[742]They set them downe, and made good chere,And eate and dranke full well.A secondFYTof the wightye yeomen:[743]185Another I wyll you tell.
And when they came to mery Carleile,All in 'the' mornyng tyde,They founde the gates shut them untyll[715]About on every syde.
Alas! then sayd good Adam Bell,5That ever we were made men!These gates be shut so wonderous fast,We may not come therein.
Then bespake him Clym of the Clough,Wyth a wyle we wyl us in bryng;10Let us saye we be messengers,Streyght come nowe from our king.
Adam said, I have a letter written,Now let us wysely werke,We wyl saye we have the kynges seale;15I holde the porter no clerke.
Then Adam Bell bete on the gatesWith strokes great and stronge:The porter marveiled, who was therat,And to the gates he thronge.[716]20
Who is there now, sayde the porter,That maketh all thys knockinge?We be tow messengers, quoth Clim of the Clough,Be come ryght from our kyng.
We have a letter, sayd Adam Bel,25To the justice we must itt bryng;Let us in our message to do,That we were agayne to the kyng.
Here commeth none in, sayd the porter,By hym that dyed on a tre,30Tyll a false thefe be hanged,Called Wyllyam of Cloudeslè.
Then spake the good yeman Clym of the Clough,And swore by Mary fre,And if that we stande long wythout,35Like a thefe hanged shalt thou be.
Lo! here we have the kynges seale:What, Lurden,[717]art thou wode?[718][719]The porter went[720]it had ben so,And lyghtly dyd off hys hode.[721]40
Welcome is my lordes seale, he saide;For that ye shall come in.He opened the gate full shortlye:An euyl openyng for him.
Now are we in, sayde Adam Bell,45Wherof we are full faine;[722]But Christ he knowes, that harowed[723]hell,How we shall com out agayne.
Had we the keys, said Clim of the Clough,Ryght wel then shoulde we spede,50Then might we come out wel ynoughWhen we se tyme and nede.
They called the porter to counsell,And wrang his necke in two,And caste hym in a depe dungeon,55And toke hys keys hym fro.
Now am I porter, sayd Adam Bel,Se brother the keys are here,The worst porter to merry CarleileThat 'the' had thys hundred yere.60
And now wyll we our bowes bend,Into the towne wyll we go,For to delyuer our dere brothèr,That lyeth in care and wo.
Then they bent theyr good ewe bowes,65And loked theyr stringes were round,[724]The markett place in mery CarleileThey beset that stound.[725]
And, as they loked them besyde,A paire of new galowes 'they' see,70And the justice with a quest[726]of squyers,That judged William hanged to be.
And Cloudeslè lay redy there in a cart,Fast bound both fote and hand;And a stronge rop about hys necke,75All readye for to hange.
The justice called to him a ladde,Cloudeslees clothes hee shold have,To take the measure of that yemàn,Therafter to make hys grave.80
I have sene as great mervaile, said Cloudesle,As betweyne thys and pryme,He that maketh a grave for mee,Hymselfe may lye therin.
Thou speakest proudlye, said the justice,85I will thee hange with my hande.Full wel herd this his brethren two,There styll as they dyd stande.
Then Cloudeslè cast his eyen asyde,And saw hys 'brethren twaine'90At a corner of the market place,Redy the justice for to slaine.
I se comfort, sayd Cloudeslè,Yet hope I well to fare,If I might have my handes at wyll95Ryght lytle wolde I care.
Then spake good Adam BellTo Clym of the Clough so free,Brother, se you marke the justyce wel;Lo! yonder you may him se:100
And at the shyrife shote I wyllStrongly wyth an arrowe kene;A better shote in mery CarleileThys seven yere was not sene.
They loosed their arrowes both at once,[727]105Of no man had they dread;The one hyt the justice, the other the sheryfe,That both theyr sides gan blede.[728]
All men voyded,[729]that them stode nye,When the justice fell to the grounde,110And the sherife nye hym by;Eyther had his deathes wounde.
All the citezens fast gan flye,They durst no longer abyde:There lyghtly they losed Cloudeslee,115Where he with ropes lay tyde.
Wyllyam start to an officer of the towne,Hys axe 'from' hys hand he wronge,On eche syde he smote them downe,Hee thought he taryed to long.120
Wyllyam sayde to hys brethren two,Thys daye let us lyve and die,If ever you have nede, as I have now,The same shall you finde by me.
They shot so well in that tyde,125Theyr stringes were of silke ful sure,That they kept the stretes on every side;That batayle did long endure.
They fought together as brethren true,Lyke hardy men and bolde,130Many a man to the ground they threw,And many a herte made colde.
But when their arrowes were all gon,Men preced[730]to them full fast,They drew theyr swordès then anone,135And theyr bowes from them cast.
They went lyghtlye on theyr way,Wyth swordes and buclers round;By that it was mydd of the day,They made many a wound.140
There was an out-horne[731]in Carleil blowen,And the belles backwàrd dyd ryng,Many a woman sayde, Alas!And many theyr handes dyd wryng.
The mayre of Carleile forth com was,145Wyth hym a ful great route:[732]These yemen dred hym full sore,Of theyr lyves they stode in great doute.[733][734]
The mayre came armed a full great pace,With a pollaxe in hys hande;150Many a strong man wyth him was,There in that stowre[735]to stande.
The mayre smot at Cloudeslee with his bil,[736]Hys bucler he brast[737]in two,Full many a yeman with great evyll,155Alas! Treason they cryed for wo.Kepe well the gates fast, they bad,That these traytours therout not go.
But al for nought was that they wrought,For so fast they downe were layde,160Tyll they all thre, that so manfulli fought,Were gotten without, abraide.[738]
Have here your keys, sayd Adam Bel,Myne office I here forsake,And yf you do by my counsell165A new porter do ye make.
He threw theyr keys at theyr heads,And bad them well to thryve,[739]And all that letteth any good yemanTo come and comfort his wyfe.170
Thus be these good yeman gon to the wodAs lyghtly, as lefe on lynde;[740]The lough and be mery in theyr mode,Theyr enemyes were ferr behynd.
When they came to Englyshe wode,[741]175Under the trusty tre,There they found bowes full good,And arrowes full great plentye.
So God me help, sayd Adam Bell,And Clym of the Clough so fre,180I would we were in mery Carleile,Before that fayre meynye.[742]
They set them downe, and made good chere,And eate and dranke full well.A secondFYTof the wightye yeomen:[743]185Another I wyll you tell.
As they sat in Englyshe wood,Under the green-wode tre,They thought they herd a woman wepe,But her they mought[744]not se.Sore then syghed the fayre Alyce:5'That ever I sawe thys day!'For nowe is my dere husband slayne:Alas! and wel-a-way!Myght I have spoken wyth hys dere brethren,Or with eyther of them twayne,10To show them what him befell,My hart were out of payne.Cloudeslè walked a lytle beside,He looked under the grene wood lynde,He was ware of his wife, and chyldren three,15Full wo in harte and mynde.Welcome, wyfe, then sayde Wyllyam,Under 'this' trusti tre:I had wende[745]yesterday, by swete saynt John,Thou sholdest me never 'have' se.[746]20"Now well is me that ye be here,My harte is out of wo."Dame, he sayde, be mery and glad,And thanke my brethren two.Herof to speake, said Adam Bell,25I-wis it is no bote:The meate, that we must supp withall,It runneth yet fast on fote.Then went they downe into a launde,[747]These noble archares all thre;30Eche of them slew a hart of greece,[748]The best that they cold se.Have here the best, Alyce, my wyfe,Sayde Wyllyam of Cloudeslye;By cause ye so bouldly stode by me35When I was slayne full nye.Then went they to suppèreWyth suche meate as they had;And thanked God of ther fortune:They were both mery and glad.40And when they had supped well,Certayne withouten lease,[749]Cloudeslè sayd, We wyll to our kyng,To get us a charter of peace.Alyce shal be at our sojournyng45In a nunnery here besyde;My tow sonnes shall wyth her go,And there they shall abyde.Myne eldest son shall go wyth me;For hym have 'you' no care:[750]50And he shall bring you worde agayn,How that we do fare.Thus be these yemen to London gone,As fast as they myght 'he,'[751]Tyll they came to the kynges pallàce,55Where they woulde nedes be.And whan they came to the kynges courte,Unto the pallace gate,Of no man wold they aske no leave,But boldly went in therat.60They preced prestly[752]into the hall,Of no man had they dreade:The porter came after, and dyd them call,And with them began to chyde.The usher sayde, Yemen, what wold ye have?65I pray you tell to me:You myght thus make offycers shent:[753]Good syrs, of whence be ye?Syr, we be out-lawes of the forestCertayne withouten lease;70And hether we be come to the kyng,To get us a charter of peace.And whan they came before the kyng,As it was the lawe of the lande,The kneled downe without lettyng,75And eche held up his hand.The sayed, Lord, we beseche the here,That ye wyll graunt us grace;For we have slayne your fat falow dereIn many a sondry place.80What be your nams, then said our king,Anone that you tell me?They sayd, Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough,And Wyllyam of Cloudeslè.Be ye those theves, then sayd our kyng,85That men have tolde of to me?Here to God I make an avowe,Ye shal be hanged al thre.Ye shal be dead without mercy,As I am kynge of this lande.90He commanded his officers everich-one,Fast on them to lay hande.There they toke these good yemen,And arested them al thre:So may I thryve, sayd Adam Bell,95Thys game lyketh not me.But, good lorde, we beseche you now,That yee graunt us grace,Insomuche as 'frely' we be to you come,'As frely' we may fro you passe,100With such weapons, as we have here,Tyll we be out of your place;And yf we lyve this hundreth yere,We wyll aske you no grace.Ye speake proudly, sayd the kynge;105Ye shall be hanged all thre.That were great pitye, then sayd the quene,If any grace myght be.My lorde, whan I came fyrst into this landeTo be your wedded wyfe,110The fyrst boone that I wold aske,[754]Ye would graunt it me belyfe:[755]And I asked you never none tyll now;Therefore good lorde, graunt it me,Now aske it, madam, sayd the kynge,115And graunted it shal be.Then, good my lord, I you beseche,These yemen graunt ye me.Madame, ye myght have asked a boone,That shuld have been worth them all thre.120Ye myght have asked towres, and townes,Parkes and forestes plentè.None soe pleasant to my pay,[756]shee sayd;Nor none so lefe[757]to me.Madame, sith it is your desyre,125Your askyng graunted shal be;But I had lever have geven youGood market townes thre.The quene was a glad woman,And sayde, Lord, gramarcy:[758][759]130I dare undertake for them,That true men shal they be.But good my lord, speke som mery word,That comfort they may se.I graunt you grace, then sayd our king;135Washe, felos, and to meate go ye.They had not setten but a whyleCertayne without lesynge,[760]There came messengers out of the northWith letters to our kyng.140And whan the came before the kynge,They knelt downe on theyr kne;And sayd, Lord, your officers grete you well,Of Carleile in the north cuntrè.How fareth my justice, sayd the kyng,145And my sherife also?Syr, they be slayne without leasynge,And many an officer mo.Who hath them slayne, sayd the kyng;Anone that thou tell me?150"Adam Bell, and Clime of the Clough,And Wyllyam of Cloudeslè."Alas for rewth![761]then sayd our kynge:My hart is wonderous sore;I had lever[762]than a thousande pounde,155I had knowne of thys before;For I have graunted them grace,And that forthynketh[763]me:But had I knowne all thys before,They had been hanged all thre.160The kyng hee opened the letter anone,Himselfe he red it thro,And founde how these outlawes had slainThre hundred men and mo:Fyrst the justice, and the sheryfe,165And the mayre of Carleile towne;Of all the constables and catchipollesAlyve were 'scant' left one:[764]The baylyes, and the bedyls both,And the sergeauntes of the law,170And forty fosters of the fe,[765]These outlawes had yslaw:[766]And broke his parks, and slayne his dere;Of all they chose the best;So perelous out-lawes, as they were,175Walked not by easte nor west.When the kynge this letter had red,In hys harte he syghed sore:Take up the tables anone he bad,For I may eat no more.180The kyng called hys best archarsTo the buttes wyth hym to go:I wyll se these felowes shote, he sayd,In the north have wrought this wo.The kynges bowmen buske them blyve,[767][768]185And the quenes archers also;So dyd these thre wyghtye yemen;With them they thought to go.There twyse, or thryse they shote aboutFor to assay theyr hande;190There was no shote these yemen shot,That any prycke[769]myght stand.Then spake Wyllyam of Cloudeslè;By him that for me dyed,I hold hym never no good archar,195That shoteth at buttes so wyde.'At what a butte now wold ye shote,'I pray thee tell to me?At suche a but, syr, he sayd,As men use in my countree.200Wyllyam wente into a fyeld,And 'with him' his two brethren:[770]There they set up two hasell roddes[771][770]Twenty score paces betwene.[772]I hold him an archar, said Cloudeslè,205That yonder wande cleveth in two.Here is none suche, sayd the kyng,Nor no man can so do.[773]I shall assaye, syr, sayd Cloudeslè,Or that I farther go.210Cloudesly with a bearyng arowe[774]Clave the wand in two.[770]Thou art the best archer, then said the king,Forsothe that ever I se.And yet for your love, sayd Wyllyam,215I wyll do more maystery.[775]I have a sonne is seven yere olde,He is to me full deare;I wyll hym tye to a stake;All shall se, that be here;220And lay an apple upon hys head,And go syxe score paces hym fro,[776]And I my selfe with a brode aròwShall cleve the apple in two.Now haste the, then sayd the kyng,225By hym that dyed on a tre,But yf thou do not, as thou hest sayde,Hanged shalt thou be.And thou touche his head or gowne,In fyght that men may se,230By all the sayntes that be in heaven,I shall hange you all thre.That I have promised, said William,That I wyll never forsake.And there even before the kynge235In the earth he drove a stake:And bound thereto his eldest sonne,And bad hym stand styll thereat;And turned the childes face him fro,Because he should not start.240An apple upon his head he set,And then his bowe he bent:Syxe score paces they were meaten,[777]And thether Cloudeslè went.There he drew out a fayr brode arrowe,245Hys bowe was great and longe,He set that arrowe in his bowe,That was both styffe and strongeHe prayed the people, that wer there,That they 'all still wold' stand,250For he that shoteth for such a wager,Behoveth a stedfast hand.[778]Muche people prayed for Cloudeslè,That his lyfe saved myght be,And whan he made hym redy to shote,255There was many weeping ee.'But' Cloudeslè clefte the apple in two,'His sonne he did not nee.'[779]Over Gods forbode, sayde the kinge,That thou shold shote at me.260I geve thee eightene pence a day,And my bowe shalt thou bere,And over all the north countrèI make the chyfe rydère.[780]And I thyrtene pence a day, said the quene,[781]265By God, and by my fay;[782]Come feche thy payment when thou wylt,No man shall say the nay.Wyllyam, I make the a gentlemanOf clothyng, and of fe:270And thy two brethren, yemen of my chambre,For they are so semely to se.Your sonne, for he is tendre of age,Of my wyne-seller he shall be;And when he commeth to mans estate,275Better avaunced shall he be.And, Wyllyam, bring me your wife, said the quene,Me longeth her sore to se:She shall be my chefe gentlewoman,To governe my nurserye.280The yemen thanked them all curteously.To some byshop wyl we wend,[783]Of all the synnes, that we have done,To be assoyld[784]at his hand.So forth be gone these good yemen,285As fast as they might 'he[785]';And after came and dwelled with the kynge,And dyed good men all thre.Thus endeth the lives of these good yemen;God send them eternall blysse;290And all, that with a hand-bowe shoteth:That of heven may never mysse. Amen.
As they sat in Englyshe wood,Under the green-wode tre,They thought they herd a woman wepe,But her they mought[744]not se.
Sore then syghed the fayre Alyce:5'That ever I sawe thys day!'For nowe is my dere husband slayne:Alas! and wel-a-way!
Myght I have spoken wyth hys dere brethren,Or with eyther of them twayne,10To show them what him befell,My hart were out of payne.
Cloudeslè walked a lytle beside,He looked under the grene wood lynde,He was ware of his wife, and chyldren three,15Full wo in harte and mynde.
Welcome, wyfe, then sayde Wyllyam,Under 'this' trusti tre:I had wende[745]yesterday, by swete saynt John,Thou sholdest me never 'have' se.[746]20
"Now well is me that ye be here,My harte is out of wo."Dame, he sayde, be mery and glad,And thanke my brethren two.
Herof to speake, said Adam Bell,25I-wis it is no bote:The meate, that we must supp withall,It runneth yet fast on fote.
Then went they downe into a launde,[747]These noble archares all thre;30Eche of them slew a hart of greece,[748]The best that they cold se.
Have here the best, Alyce, my wyfe,Sayde Wyllyam of Cloudeslye;By cause ye so bouldly stode by me35When I was slayne full nye.
Then went they to suppèreWyth suche meate as they had;And thanked God of ther fortune:They were both mery and glad.40
And when they had supped well,Certayne withouten lease,[749]Cloudeslè sayd, We wyll to our kyng,To get us a charter of peace.
Alyce shal be at our sojournyng45In a nunnery here besyde;My tow sonnes shall wyth her go,And there they shall abyde.
Myne eldest son shall go wyth me;For hym have 'you' no care:[750]50And he shall bring you worde agayn,How that we do fare.
Thus be these yemen to London gone,As fast as they myght 'he,'[751]Tyll they came to the kynges pallàce,55Where they woulde nedes be.
And whan they came to the kynges courte,Unto the pallace gate,Of no man wold they aske no leave,But boldly went in therat.60
They preced prestly[752]into the hall,Of no man had they dreade:The porter came after, and dyd them call,And with them began to chyde.
The usher sayde, Yemen, what wold ye have?65I pray you tell to me:You myght thus make offycers shent:[753]Good syrs, of whence be ye?
Syr, we be out-lawes of the forestCertayne withouten lease;70And hether we be come to the kyng,To get us a charter of peace.
And whan they came before the kyng,As it was the lawe of the lande,The kneled downe without lettyng,75And eche held up his hand.
The sayed, Lord, we beseche the here,That ye wyll graunt us grace;For we have slayne your fat falow dereIn many a sondry place.80
What be your nams, then said our king,Anone that you tell me?They sayd, Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough,And Wyllyam of Cloudeslè.
Be ye those theves, then sayd our kyng,85That men have tolde of to me?Here to God I make an avowe,Ye shal be hanged al thre.
Ye shal be dead without mercy,As I am kynge of this lande.90He commanded his officers everich-one,Fast on them to lay hande.
There they toke these good yemen,And arested them al thre:So may I thryve, sayd Adam Bell,95Thys game lyketh not me.
But, good lorde, we beseche you now,That yee graunt us grace,Insomuche as 'frely' we be to you come,'As frely' we may fro you passe,100
With such weapons, as we have here,Tyll we be out of your place;And yf we lyve this hundreth yere,We wyll aske you no grace.
Ye speake proudly, sayd the kynge;105Ye shall be hanged all thre.That were great pitye, then sayd the quene,If any grace myght be.
My lorde, whan I came fyrst into this landeTo be your wedded wyfe,110The fyrst boone that I wold aske,[754]Ye would graunt it me belyfe:[755]
And I asked you never none tyll now;Therefore good lorde, graunt it me,Now aske it, madam, sayd the kynge,115And graunted it shal be.
Then, good my lord, I you beseche,These yemen graunt ye me.Madame, ye myght have asked a boone,That shuld have been worth them all thre.120
Ye myght have asked towres, and townes,Parkes and forestes plentè.None soe pleasant to my pay,[756]shee sayd;Nor none so lefe[757]to me.
Madame, sith it is your desyre,125Your askyng graunted shal be;But I had lever have geven youGood market townes thre.
The quene was a glad woman,And sayde, Lord, gramarcy:[758][759]130I dare undertake for them,That true men shal they be.
But good my lord, speke som mery word,That comfort they may se.I graunt you grace, then sayd our king;135Washe, felos, and to meate go ye.
They had not setten but a whyleCertayne without lesynge,[760]There came messengers out of the northWith letters to our kyng.140
And whan the came before the kynge,They knelt downe on theyr kne;And sayd, Lord, your officers grete you well,Of Carleile in the north cuntrè.
How fareth my justice, sayd the kyng,145And my sherife also?Syr, they be slayne without leasynge,And many an officer mo.
Who hath them slayne, sayd the kyng;Anone that thou tell me?150"Adam Bell, and Clime of the Clough,And Wyllyam of Cloudeslè."
Alas for rewth![761]then sayd our kynge:My hart is wonderous sore;I had lever[762]than a thousande pounde,155I had knowne of thys before;
For I have graunted them grace,And that forthynketh[763]me:But had I knowne all thys before,They had been hanged all thre.160
The kyng hee opened the letter anone,Himselfe he red it thro,And founde how these outlawes had slainThre hundred men and mo:
Fyrst the justice, and the sheryfe,165And the mayre of Carleile towne;Of all the constables and catchipollesAlyve were 'scant' left one:[764]
The baylyes, and the bedyls both,And the sergeauntes of the law,170And forty fosters of the fe,[765]These outlawes had yslaw:[766]
And broke his parks, and slayne his dere;Of all they chose the best;So perelous out-lawes, as they were,175Walked not by easte nor west.
When the kynge this letter had red,In hys harte he syghed sore:Take up the tables anone he bad,For I may eat no more.180
The kyng called hys best archarsTo the buttes wyth hym to go:I wyll se these felowes shote, he sayd,In the north have wrought this wo.
The kynges bowmen buske them blyve,[767][768]185And the quenes archers also;So dyd these thre wyghtye yemen;With them they thought to go.
There twyse, or thryse they shote aboutFor to assay theyr hande;190There was no shote these yemen shot,That any prycke[769]myght stand.
Then spake Wyllyam of Cloudeslè;By him that for me dyed,I hold hym never no good archar,195That shoteth at buttes so wyde.
'At what a butte now wold ye shote,'I pray thee tell to me?At suche a but, syr, he sayd,As men use in my countree.200
Wyllyam wente into a fyeld,And 'with him' his two brethren:[770]There they set up two hasell roddes[771][770]Twenty score paces betwene.[772]
I hold him an archar, said Cloudeslè,205That yonder wande cleveth in two.Here is none suche, sayd the kyng,Nor no man can so do.[773]
I shall assaye, syr, sayd Cloudeslè,Or that I farther go.210Cloudesly with a bearyng arowe[774]Clave the wand in two.[770]
Thou art the best archer, then said the king,Forsothe that ever I se.And yet for your love, sayd Wyllyam,215I wyll do more maystery.[775]
I have a sonne is seven yere olde,He is to me full deare;I wyll hym tye to a stake;All shall se, that be here;220
And lay an apple upon hys head,And go syxe score paces hym fro,[776]And I my selfe with a brode aròwShall cleve the apple in two.
Now haste the, then sayd the kyng,225By hym that dyed on a tre,But yf thou do not, as thou hest sayde,Hanged shalt thou be.
And thou touche his head or gowne,In fyght that men may se,230By all the sayntes that be in heaven,I shall hange you all thre.
That I have promised, said William,That I wyll never forsake.And there even before the kynge235In the earth he drove a stake:
And bound thereto his eldest sonne,And bad hym stand styll thereat;And turned the childes face him fro,Because he should not start.240
An apple upon his head he set,And then his bowe he bent:Syxe score paces they were meaten,[777]And thether Cloudeslè went.
There he drew out a fayr brode arrowe,245Hys bowe was great and longe,He set that arrowe in his bowe,That was both styffe and stronge
He prayed the people, that wer there,That they 'all still wold' stand,250For he that shoteth for such a wager,Behoveth a stedfast hand.[778]
Muche people prayed for Cloudeslè,That his lyfe saved myght be,And whan he made hym redy to shote,255There was many weeping ee.
'But' Cloudeslè clefte the apple in two,'His sonne he did not nee.'[779]Over Gods forbode, sayde the kinge,That thou shold shote at me.260
I geve thee eightene pence a day,And my bowe shalt thou bere,And over all the north countrèI make the chyfe rydère.[780]
And I thyrtene pence a day, said the quene,[781]265By God, and by my fay;[782]Come feche thy payment when thou wylt,No man shall say the nay.
Wyllyam, I make the a gentlemanOf clothyng, and of fe:270And thy two brethren, yemen of my chambre,For they are so semely to se.
Your sonne, for he is tendre of age,Of my wyne-seller he shall be;And when he commeth to mans estate,275Better avaunced shall he be.
And, Wyllyam, bring me your wife, said the quene,Me longeth her sore to se:She shall be my chefe gentlewoman,To governe my nurserye.280
The yemen thanked them all curteously.To some byshop wyl we wend,[783]Of all the synnes, that we have done,To be assoyld[784]at his hand.
So forth be gone these good yemen,285As fast as they might 'he[785]';And after came and dwelled with the kynge,And dyed good men all thre.
Thus endeth the lives of these good yemen;God send them eternall blysse;290And all, that with a hand-bowe shoteth:That of heven may never mysse. Amen.