God prosper long our noble king,
Our lives and safeties all!
A woeful hunting once there did
In Chevy Chase befall.
To drive the deer with hound and horn
Earl Piercy took the way;
The child may rue that is unborn
The hunting of that day!
The stout Earl of Northumberland,
A vow to God did make,
His pleasure in the Scottish woods
Three summers' days to take,
The chiefest harts in Chevy Chase
To kill and bear away;
These tidings to Earl Douglas came
In Scotland where he lay,
Who sent Earl Piercy present word
He would prevent his sport.
The English Earl, not fearing that,
Did to the woods resort,
With fifteen hundred bowmen bold,
All chosen men of might,
Who knew full well in time of need
To aim their shafts aright.
The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran
To chase the fallow deer;
On Monday they began to hunt
Ere daylight did appear;
And long before high noon they had
A hundred fat bucks slain.
Then having dined, the drivers went
To rouse the deer again.
The bowmen mustered on the hills,
Well able to endure;
Their backsides all with special care
That day were guarded sure.
The hounds ran swiftly through the woods
The nimble deer to take,
That with their cries the hills and dales
An echo shrill did make.
Lord Piercy to the quarry went
To view the tender deer;
Quoth he, "Earl Douglas promised once
This day to meet me here;
"But if I thought he would not come,
No longer would I stay."
With that a brave young gentleman
Thus to the Earl did say,
"Lo, yonder doth Earl Douglas come,
His men in armour bright,
Full twenty hundred Scottish spears
All marching in our sight,
"All men of pleasant Tividale
Fast by the river Tweed."
"O cease your sports!" Earl Piercy said,
"And take your bows with speed,
"And now with me, my countrymen,
Your courage forth advance!
For there was never champion yet
In Scotland nor in France
"That ever did on horseback come,
But if my hap it were,
I durst encounter man for man,
With him to break a spear."
Earl Douglas on his milk-white steed,
Most like a baron bold,
Rode foremost of his company,
Whose armour shone like gold:
"Show me," said he, "whose men you be
That hunt so boldly here;
That without my consent do chase
And kill my fallow deer."
The first man that did answer make
Was noble Piercy, he,
Who said, "We list not to declare,
Nor show whose men we be;
"Yet we will spend our dearest blood
Thy chiefest harts to slay."
Then Douglas swore a solemn oath,
And thus in rage did say,
"Ere thus I will outbrav-ed be,
One of us two shall die!
I know thee well! an earl thou art,
Lord Piercy! so am I.
"But trust me, Piercy, pity it were,
And great offence, to kill
Any of these our guiltless men
For they have done no ill;
"Let thou and I the battle try,
And set our men aside."
"Accurst be he," Earl Piercy said,
"By whom it is denied."
Then stepped a gallant squire forth,—
Witherington was his name,—
Who said, "I would not have it told
To Henry our king, for shame,
"That e'er my captain fought on foot,
And I stand looking on:
You be two Earls," quoth Witherington,
"And I a Squire alone.
"I'll do the best that do I may,
While I have power to stand!
While I have power to wield my sword,
I'll fight with heart and hand!"
Our English archers bent their bows—
Their hearts were good and true,—
At the first flight of arrows sent,
Full fourscore Scots they slew.
To drive the deer with hound and horn,
Douglas bade on the bent;
Two captains moved with mickle might,
Their spears to shivers went.
They closed full fast on every side,
No slackness there was found,
But many a gallant gentleman
Lay gasping on the ground.
O Christ! it was great grief to see
How each man chose his spear,
And how the blood out of their breasts
Did gush like water clear!
At last these two stout Earls did meet
Like captains of great might;
Like lions wood they laid on load,
They made a cruel fight.
They fought, until they both did sweat,
With swords of tempered steel,
Till blood adown their cheeks like rain
They trickling down did feel.
"O yield thee, Piercy!" Douglas said,
"And in faith I will thee bring
Where thou shalt high advanc-ed be
By James our Scottish king;
"Thy ransom I will freely give,
And this report of thee,
Thou art the most courageous knight
That ever I did see."
"No, Douglas!" quoth Earl Piercy then,
"Thy proffer I do scorn;
I will not yield to any Scot
That ever yet was born!"
With that there came an arrow keen
Out of an English bow,
Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart
A deep and deadly blow;
Who never said more words than these,
"Fight on; my merry men all!
For why? my life is at an end,
Lord Piercy sees my fall."
Then leaving life, Earl Piercy took
The dead man by the hand;
Who said, "Earl Douglas! for thy life
Would I had lost my land!
"O Christ! my very heart doth bleed
For sorrow for thy sake!
For sure, a more redoubted knight
Mischance could never take!"
A knight amongst the Scots there was,
Which saw Earl Douglas die,
Who straight in heart did vow revenge
Upon the Lord Pierc-y;
Sir Hugh Montgomery he was called,
Who, with a spear full bright,
Well mounted on a gallant steed,
Ran fiercely through the fight,
And past the English archers all
Without all dread or fear,
And through Earl Piercy's body then
He thrust his hateful spear.
With such a vehement force and might
His body he did gore,
The staff ran through the other side
A large cloth yard and more.
So thus did both those nobles die,
Whose courage none could stain.
An English archer then perceived
The noble Earl was slain;
He had a good bow in his hand
Made of a trusty tree;
An arrow of a cloth yard long
To the hard head hal-ed he,
Against Sir Hugh Montgomery
His shaft full right he set;
The grey goose-wing that was thereon,
In his heart's blood was wet.
This fight from break of day did last
Till setting of the sun;
For when they rung the evening bell,
The battle scarce was done.
With stout Earl Piercy there was slain
Sir John of Egerton,
Sir Robert Harcliffe and Sir William,
Sir James that bold bar-on;
And with Sir George and Sir James,
Both knights of good account,
Good Sir Ralph Raby there was slain,
Whose prowess did surmount.
For Witherington needs must I wail
As one in doleful dumps,
For when his legs were smitten off,
He fought upon his stumps.
And with Earl Douglas there was slain
Sir Hugh Montgomery,
And Sir Charles Morrel that from the field
One foot would never fly;
Sir Roger Hever of Harcliffe too,—
His sister's son was he,—
Sir David Lambwell, well esteemed,
But saved he could not be;
And the Lord Maxwell in like case
With Douglas he did die;
Of twenty hundred Scottish spears,
Scarce fifty-five did fly.
Of fifteen hundred Englishmen
Went home but fifty-three;
The rest in Chevy Chase were slain,
Under the greenwood tree.
Next day did many widows come
Their husbands to bewail;
They washed their wounds in brinish tears,
But all would not prevail.
Their bodies, bathed in purple blood,
They bore with them away;
They kissed them dead a thousand times
Ere they were clad in clay.
This news was brought to Edinburgh,
Where Scotland's king did reign,
That brave Earl Douglas suddenly
Was with an arrow slain.
"O heavy news!" King James did say,
"Scotland may witness be
I have not any captain more
Of such account as he!"
Like tidings to King Henry came
Within as short a space,
That Piercy of Northumberland
Was slain in Chevy Chase.
"Now God be with him!" said our king,
"Sith 'twill no better be,
I trust I have within my realm
Five hundred as good as he!
"Yet shall not Scots nor Scotland say
But I will vengeance take,
And be reveng-ed on them all
For brave Earl Piercy's sake."
This vow the king did well perform
After on Humble Down;
In one day fifty knights were slain,
With lords of great renown,
And of the rest of small account,
Did many hundreds die:
Thus ended the hunting in Chevy Chase
Made by the Earl Piercy.
God save our king, and bless this land
With plenty, joy, and peace,
And grant henceforth that foul debate
Twixt noble men may cease!
THE NUT-BROWN MAID
Be it right or wrong, these men among
On women do complain;
Affirming this, how that it is
A labour spent in vain
To love them wele; for never a dele
They love a man again:
For let a man do what he can,
Their favour to attain,
Yet, if a new to them pursue,
Their first true lover than
Laboureth for naught; and from her thought
He is a banished man.
I say not nay, but that all day
It is both writ and said
That woman's faith is, as who saith,
All utterly decayed;
But nevertheless, right good witn-ess
In this case might be laid.
That they love true, and contin-ue,
Record the Nut-brown Maid:
Which from her love, when her to prove
He came to make his moan,
Would not depart; for in her heart
She loved but him alone.
Then between us let us discuss
What was all the manere
Between them two: we will also
Tell all the pain in fere
That she was in. Now I begin,
So that ye me answere:
Wher-efore, ye, that present be
I pray you give an ear.
I am the knight. I come by night,
As secret as I can;
Saying, "Alas! thus standeth the case,
I am a banished man."
And I your will for to fulfil
In this will not refuse;
Trusting to shew, in word-es few,
That men have an ill use
(To their own shame) women to blame,
And causeless them accuse:
Therefore to you I answer now,
All women to excuse,—
"Mine own heart dear, with you what cheer?
I pray you, tell anone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone."
HE.
"It standeth so: a deed is do
Whereof much harm shall grow;
My destiny is for to die
A shameful death, I trow;
Or else to flee. The one must be.
None other way I know,
But to withdraw as an out-law,
And take me to my bow.
Wherefore, adieu, my own heart true!
None other rede I can:
For I must to the green wood go,
Alone, a banished man."
SHE.
"O Lord, what is this world-es bliss,
That changeth as the moon!
My summer's day in lusty May
Is darked before the noon.
I hear you say, farewell: Nay, nay!
We de-part not so soon.
Why say ye so? whither will ye go?
Alas! what have ye done?
All my welf-are to sorrow and care
Should change, if ye were gone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone."
HE.
"I can believe, it shall you grieve,
And somewhat you distrain;
But, afterward, your pain-es hard
Within a day or twain
Shall soon aslake; and ye shall take
Com-fort to you again.
Why should ye nought? for, to make thought,
Your labour were in vain.
And thus I do; and pray you, lo,
As heartily as I can:
For I must to the green wood go,
Alone, a banished man."
SHE.
"Now, sith that ye have shewed to me
The secret of your mind,
I shall be plain to you again,
Like as ye shall me find.
Sith it is so, that ye will go,
I will not leave behind.
Shall never be said, the Nut-brown Maid
Was to her love unkind:
Make you read-y, for so am I,
Although it were anone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone."
HE.
"Yet I you re-de, take good heed
When men will think and say:
Of young, of old, it shall be told,
That ye be gone away
Your wanton will for to fulfil,
In green wood you to play;
And that ye might from your delight
No longer make delay.
Rather than ye should thus for me
Be called an ill wom-an,
Yet would I to the green wood go,
Alone, a banished man."
SHE.
"Though it be sung of old and young,
That I should be to blame,
Theirs be the charge that speak so large
In hurting of my name:
For I will prove, that faithful love
It is devoid of shame
In your distress and heaviness
To part with you the same:
And sure all tho that do not so,
True lovers are they none:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone."
HE.
"I counsel you, Remember how
It is no maiden's law
Nothing to doubt, but to run out
To wood with an out-law;
For ye must there in your hand bear
A bow to bear and draw;
And, as a thief, thus must ye live,
Ever in dread and awe;
By which to you great harm might grow:
Yet had I liever than
That I had to the green wood go
Alone, a banished man."
SHE.
"I think not nay, but as ye say,
It is no maiden's lore;
But love may make me for your sake,
As ye have said before,
To come on foot, to hunt and shoot
To get us meat and store;
For so that I your company
May have, I ask no more;
From which to part, it maketh mine heart
As cold as any stone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone."
HE.
"For an out-law, this is the law,
That men him take and bind;
Without pit-ie, hang-ed to be,
And waver with the wind.
If I had nede (as God forbede!)
What rescues could ye find?
Forsooth, I trow, you and your bow
Should draw for fear behind.
And no mervayle: for little avail
Were in your counsel than:
Wherefore I to the wood will go,
Alone, a banished man."
SHE
"Full well know ye, that women be
Full feeble for to fight;
No womanhede it is indeed
To be bold as a knight;
Yet, in such fear if that ye were
Among enemies day and night,
I would withstand, with bow in hand,
To grieve them as I might,
And you to save; as women have
From death many a one:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone."
HE.
"Yet take good hede; for ever I drede
That ye could not sustain
The thorny ways, the deep vall-eys,
The snow, the frost, the rain,
The cold, the heat: for dry or wet,
We must lodge on the plain;
And, us above, none other roof
But a brake bush or twain:
Which soon should grieve you, I believe:
And ye would gladly than
That I had to the green wood go,
Alone, a banished man."
SHE.
"Sith I have here been partynere
With you of joy and bliss,
I must al-so part of your woe
Endure, as reason is:
Yet am I sure of one pleas-ure;
And, shortly, it is this:
That, where ye be, me seemeth, perde,
I could not fare amiss.
Without more speech, I you beseech
That we were soon agone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone."
HE.
"If ye go thyder, ye must consider,
When ye have lust to dine,
There shall no meat be for to gete,
Nor drink, beer, ale, ne wine.
Ne sheet-es clean, to lie between,
Ymade of thread and twine;
None other house, but leaves and boughs,
To cover your head and mine;
Lo mine heart sweet, this ill di-ete
Should make you pale and wan:
Wherefore I to the wood will go,
Alone, a banished man."
SHE.
"Among the wild deer, such an archere,
As men say that ye be,
Ne may not fail of good vitayle,
Where is so great plent-y:
And water clear of the rivere
Shall be full sweet to me;
With which in hele I shall right wele
Endure, as ye shall see;
And, ere we go, a bed or two
I can provide anone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone."
HE.
"Lo yet, before, ye must do more,
If ye will go with me:
As cut your hair up by your ear,
Your kirtle by the knee,
With bow in hand, for to withstand
Your enemies, if need be:
And this same night, before daylight,
To woodward will I flee.
An ye will all this fulfil,
Do it shortly as ye can:
Else will I to the green wood go,
Alone, a banished man."
SHE.
"I shall as now do more for you
Than 'longeth to womanhede;
To short my hair, a bow to bear,
To shoot in time of need.
O my sweet mother! before all other
For you have I most drede!
But now, adieu! I must ensue,
Where fortune doth me lead.
All this make ye. Now let us flee;
The day comes fast upon:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone."
HE.
"Nay, nay, not so; ye shall not go,
And I shall tell you why,—
Your appetite is to be light
Of love, I well espy:
For, right as ye have said to me,
In like wise hardily
Ye would answere whosoever it were,
In way of company,
It is said of old, Soon hot, soon cold;
And so is a wom-an:
Wherefore I to the wood will go,
Alone, a banished man."
SHE.
"If ye take heed, it is no need
Such words to say by me;
For oft ye prayed, and long assayed,
Or I you loved, pard-e;
And though that I of ancestry
A baron's daughter be,
Yet have you proved how I you loved.
A squire of low degree;
And ever shall, whatso befall;
To die therefore anone;
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone."
HE.
"A baron's child to be beguiled!
It were a curs-ed dede;
To be fel-aw with an out-law
Almighty God forbede!
Yet better were, the poor squyere
Alone to forest yede,
Than ye shall say another day,
That by my wicked dede
Ye were betrayed: Wherefore, good maid,
The best rede that I can,
Is, that I to the green wood go,
Alone, a banished man."
SHE.
"Whatsoever befall, I never shall
Of this thing you upbraid:
But if ye go, and leave me so,
Then have ye me betrayed.
Remember you wele, how that ye dele,
For if ye, as ye said,
Be so unkind to leave behind
Your love, the Nut-brown Maid,
Trust me tru-ly, that I shall die
Soon after ye be gone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone."
HE.
"If that ye went, ye should repent;
For in the forest now
I have purveyed me of a maid,
Whom I love more than you;
Another fairer than ever ye were,
I dare it well avow;
And of you both, each should be wroth
With other, as I trow:
It were mine ease to live in peace;
So will I, if I can:
Wherefore I to the wood will go,
Alone, a banished man."
SHE.
"Though in the wood I understood
Ye had a paramour,
All this may nought remove my thought,
But that I will be your:
And she shall find me soft and kind,
And courteis every hour;
Glad to fulfil all that she will
Command me, to my power:
For had ye, lo! an hundred mo,
Yet would I be that one:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone."
HE.
"Mine own dear love, I see the proof
That ye be kind and true;
Of maid, and wife, in all my life,
The best that ever I knew.
Be merry and glad; be no more sad;
The case is chang-ed new;
For it were ruth that for your truth
You should have cause to rue.
Be not dismayed, whatsoever I said
To you, when I began:
I will not to the green wood go;
I am no banished man."
SHE.
"These tidings be more glad to me,
Than to be made a queen,
If I were sure they should endure:
But it is often seen,
When men will break promise they speak
The wordis on the spleen.
Ye shape some wile me to beguile,
And steal from me, I ween:
Then were the case worse than it was
And I more wo-begone:
For, in my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone."
HE.
"Ye shall not nede further to drede:
I will not dispar-age
You (God defend!), sith you descend
Of so great a lin-age.
Now understand: to Westmoreland,
Which is my heritage,
I will you bring; and with a ring
By way of marri-age
I will you take, and lady make,
As shortly as I can:
Thus have ye won an earl-es son
And not a banished man."
Here may ye see, that women be
In love, meek, kind, and stable;
Let never man reprove them than,
Or call them vari-able;
But, rather, pray God that we may
To them be comfort-able,
Which sometime proveth such as he loveth,
If they be charit-able.
For sith men would that women should
Be meek to them each one;
Much more ought they to God obey,
And serve but Him alone.
ADAM BELL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH, AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLIE.
THE FIRST FYTTE.
Merry it was in green for-est,
Among the leav-es green,
Where that men walk both east and west
With bows and arrows keen,
To raise the deer out of their den,
Such sights as hath oft been seen;
As by three yeomen of the North Countrey:
By them is as I mean.
The one of them hight Adam Bell,
The other Clym of the Clough,
The third was William of Cloudeslie,
An archer good enough.
They were outlawed for venison,
These three yeomen every one;
They swore them brethren upon a day,
To Ingle wood for to gone.
Now lith and listen, gentlemen,
And that of mirths love to hear:
Two of them were single men,
The third had a wedded fere.
William was the wedded man,
Much more then was his care;
He said to his brethren upon a day,
To Carlisle he would fare,
For to speak with fair Alice his wife,
And with his children three.
"By my troth," said Adam Bell,
"Not by the counsel of me:
For if ye go to Carlisle, brother,
And from this wild wood wend,
If the Justice may you take,
Your life were at an end."—
"If that I come not to-morrow, brother,
By prime to you again,
Trust not else but that I am take,
Or else that I am slain."—
He took his leave of his brethren two,
And to Carlisle he is gone.
There he knocked at his own wind-ow
Shortly and anon.
"Where be you, fair Alice, my wife?
And my children three?
Lightly let in thine husb-and,
William of Cloudeslie."—
"Alas," then saide fair Al-ice,
And sigh-ed wondrous sore,
"This place hath been beset for you,
This half-e year and more."
"Now am I here," said Cloudeslie,
"I would that I in were;—
Now fetch us meat and drink enough,
And let us make good cheer."
She fetched him meat and drink plent-y,
Like a true wedded wife,
And pleas-ed him with that she had,
Whom she loved as her life.
There lay an old wife in that place,
A little beside the fire,
Which William had found of charity
Mor-e than seven year;
Up she rose, and walked full still,
Evil mote she speed therefore:
For she had not set no foot on ground
In seven year before.
She went unto the justice hall,
As fast as she could hie:
"This night is come unto this town
William of Cloudeslie."
Thereof the Justice was full fain,
And so was the Sheriff also;
"Thou shalt not travel hither, dame, for nought,
Thy meed thou shalt have, ere thou go."
They gave to her a right good gown,
Of scarlet it was, as I heard sain;
She took the gift and home she went,
And couched her down again.
They raised the town of merry Carlisle,
In all the haste that they can,
And came throng-ing to William's house,
As fast as they might gan.
There they beset that good yeo-man,
Round about on every side;
William heard great noise of folks,
That hitherward hied.
Alice opened a shot wind-ow,
And look-ed all about
She was ware of the Justice and the Sheriff both,
With a full great rout.
"Alas, treason!" cried Alice,
"Ever woe may thou be!—
Go into my chamber, my husband," she said,
"Sweet William of Cloudeslie."
He took his sword and his buckl-er,
His bow and his children three,
And went into his strongest chamber,
Where he thought surest to be.
Fair Al-ice followed him as a lover true,
With a poleaxe in her hand:
"He shall be dead that here cometh in
This door, while I may stand."
Cloudeslie bent a well-good bow,
That was of trusty tree,
He smote the Justice on the breast,
That his arrow burst in three.
"God's curse on his heart!" said William,
"This day thy coat did on,
If it had been no better than mine,
It had gone near thy bone!"
"Yield thee, Cloudeslie," said the Justice,
"And thy bow and thy arrows thee fro!"
"God's curse on his heart," said fair Al-ice,
"That my husband counselleth so!"
"Set fire on the house," said the Sheriff,
"Sith it will no better be,
And burn we therein William," he said,
"His wife and his children three!"
They fired the house in many a place,
The fire flew up on high;
"Alas," then cried fair Al-ice,
"I see we shall here die!"
William opened his back wind-ow,
That was in his chamber on high,
And with shet-es let his wif-e down,
And his children three.
"Have here my treasure," said Willi-am,
"My wife and my children three;
For Christ-es love do them no harm,
But wreak you all on me."
William shot so wondrous well,
Till his arrows were all gone,
And the fire so fast upon him fell,
That his bowstring burnt in two.
The sparkles burnt, and fell upon,
Good William of Cloudeslie!
But then was he a woeful man, and said,
"This is a coward's death to me.
"Liever I had," said Willi-am,
"With my sword in the rout to run,
Than here among mine enemies' wood,
Thus cruelly to burn."
He took his sword and his buckler then,
And among them all he ran,
Where the people were most in press,
He smote down many a man.
There might no man abide his stroke,
So fiercely on them he ran;
Then they threw windows and doors on him,
And so took that good yeom-an.
There they bound him hand and foot,
And in a deep dungeon him cast:
"Now, Cloudeslie," said the high Just-ice,
"Thou shalt be hanged in haste!"
"One vow shall I make," said the Sheriff,
"A pair of new gallows shall I for thee make,
And all the gates of Carlisle shall be shut,
There shall no man come in thereat.
Then shall not help Clym of the Clough
Nor yet Adam Bell,
Though they came with a thousand mo,
Nor all the devils in hell."
Early in the morning the Justice uprose,
To the gates fast gan he gone,
And commanded to shut close
Lightly every one;
Then went he to the market-place,
As fast as he could hie,
A pair of new gallows there he set up,
Beside the pillor-y.
A little boy stood them among,
And asked what meant that gallows tree;
They said-e, "To hang a good yeoman,
Called William of Cloudeslie."
That little boy was the town swineherd,
And kept fair Alice' swine,
Full oft he had seen William in the wood,
And given him there to dine.
He went out at a crevice in the wall,
And lightly to the wood did gone;
There met he with these wight yeomen,
Shortly and anon.
"Alas!" then said that little boy,
"Ye tarry here all too long!
Cloudeslie is taken and damned to death,
And ready for to hong."
"Alas!" then said good Adam Bell,
"That ever we see this day!
He might here with us have dwelled,
So oft as we did him pray.
He might have tarried in green for-est,
Under the shadows sheen,
And have kept both him and us at rest,
Out of all trouble and teen."
Adam bent a right good bow,
A great hart soon had he slain:
"Take that, child," he said, "to thy dinner,
And bring me mine arrow again."
"Now go we hence," said these wight yeomen,
"Tarry we no longer here;
We shall him borrow, by God's grace,
Though we abye it full dear."
To Carlisle went these good yeom-en
On a merry morning of May.
Here is a fytte of Cloudeslie,
And another is for to say.
THE SECOND FYTTE.
And when they came to merry Carlisle,
All in a morning tide,
They found the gates shut them until,
Round about on every side.
"Alas," then said good Adam Bell,
"That ever we were made men!
These gates be shut so wonderly well,
That we may not come here in."
Then spake him Clym of the Clough:
"With a wile we will us in bring;
Let us say we be messengers,
Straight comen from our King."
Adam said: "I have a letter written well,
Now let us wisely werk;
We will say we have the King-e's seal,
I hold the porter no clerk."
Then Adam Bell beat on the gate,
With strok-es great and strong;
The porter heard such noise thereat,
And to the gate he throng.
"Who is there now," said the porter,
"That maketh all this knocking?"
"We be two messengers," said Clym of the Clough,
"Be comen straight from our King."
"We have a letter," said Adam Bell,
"To the Justice we must it bring;
Let us in our message to do,
That we were again to our King."
"Here cometh no man in," said the porter,
"By him that died on a tree,
Till that a false thief be hanged,
Called William of Cloudeslie!"
Then spake the good yeoman Clym of the Clough,
And swore by Mary free,
"If that we stand-e long without,
Like a thief hanged shalt thou be.
Lo here we have the King-es seal;
What, lourdain, art thou wood?"
The porter weened it had been so,
And lightly did off his hood.
"Welcome be my lord's seal," said he,
"For that shall ye come in."
He opened the gate right shortelie,
An evil open-ing for him.
"Now are we in," said Adam Bell,
"Thereof we are full fain,
But Christ he knoweth, that harrowed hell,
How we shall come out again."
"Had we the keys," said Clym of the Clough,
"Right well then should we speed;
Then might we come out well enough
When we see time and need."
They called the porter to a couns-el,
And wrung his neck in two,
And cast him in a deep dunge-on,
And took the keys him fro.
"Now am I porter," said Adam Bell;
"See, brother, the keys have we here;
The worst port-er to merry Carlisle
They have had this hundred year:
And now will we our bow-es bend,
Into the town will we go,
For to deliver our dear broth-er,
That lieth in care and woe."
They bent their good yew bow-es,
And looked their strings were round,
The market-place of merry Carlisle
They beset in that stound;
And as they look-ed them beside,
A pair of new gallows there they see,
And the Justice with a quest of squires,
That judged William hang-ed to be.
And Cloudeslie lay ready there in a cart,
Fast bound both foot and hand,
And a strong rope about his neck,
All ready for to be hanged.
The Justice called to him a lad,
Cloudeslie's clothes should he have
To take the measure of that yeom-an,
Thereafter to make his grave.
"I have seen as great marvel," said Cloudeslie,
"As between this and prime;
He that maketh this grave for me,
Himself may lie therein."—
"Thou speakest proudly," said the Justice;
"I shall hang thee with my hand."
Full well that heard his brethren two,
There still as they did stand.
Then Cloudeslie cast his eyen aside,
And saw his two brethren
At a corner of the market-place,
Ready the Justice to slain.
"I see good comfort," said Cloudeslie,
"Yet hope I well to fare;
If I might have my hands at will,
Right little would I care."
Then spake good Adam Bell
To Clym of the Clough so free,
"Brother, see ye mark the Justice well;
Lo, yonder ye may him see;
And at the Sheriff shoot I will
Strongly with arrow keen."
A better shot in merry Carlisle
This seven year was not seen.
They loosed their arrows both at once,
Of no man had they drede;
The one hit the Justice, the other the Sheriff,
That both their sides gan bleed.
All men voided, that them stood nigh,
When the Justice fell to the ground,
And the Sheriff fell nigh him by,
Either had his death's wound.
All the citizens fast gan flee,
They durst no longer abide;
Then lightly they loos-ed Cloudeslie,
Where he with ropes lay tied.
William stert to an officer of the town,
His axe out of his hand he wrong,
On each-e side he smote them down,
Him thought he tarried too long.
William said to his brethren two:
"Together let us live and dee;
If e'er you have need, as I have now,
The same shall ye find by me."
They shot so well in that tide,
For their strings were of silk full sure,
That they kept the streets on every side,
That battle did long endure.
They fought together as brethren true,
Like hardy men and bold;
Many a man to the ground they threw,
And many an heart made cold.
But when their arrows were all gone,
Men pressed to them full fast;
They drew their sword-es then anon,
And their bow-es from them cast.
They went lightly on their way,
With swords and bucklers round;
By that it was the middes of the day,
They had made many a wound.
There was many a neat-horn in Carlisle blown,
And the bells back-ward did ring;
Many a woman said "Alas!"
And many their hands did wring.
The Mayor of Carlisle forth come was,
And with him a full great rout;
These three yeomen dread him full sore,
For their lives stood in doubt.
The Mayor came armed a full great pace,
With a poleaxe in his hand;
Many a strong man with him was,
There in that stour to stand.
The Mayor smote Cloudeslie with his bill,
His buckler he burst in two;
Full many a yeoman with great ill,
"Alas! treason!" they cried for woe.
"Keep we the gat-es fast," they bade,
"That these traitors thereout not go!"
But all for nought was that they wrought,
For so fast they down were laid,
Till they all three that so manfully fought,
Were gotten without at a braid.
"Have here your keys," said Adam Bell,
"Mine office I here forsake;
If you do by my coun-sel,
A new port-er do ye make."
He threw the keys there at their heads,
And bade them evil to thrive,
And all that letteth any good yeo-man
To come and comfort his wife.
Thus be these good yeomen gone to the wood,
As light as leaf on linde;
They laugh and be merry in their mood,
Their en'mies were far behind.
When they came to Inglewood,
Under their trysting tree,
There they found bow-es full good,
And arrows great plent-y.
"So help me God," said Adam Bell,
And Clym of the Clough so free,
"I would we were now in merry Carlisle,
Before that fair meynie!"
They sit them down and make good cheer,
And eat and drink full well.—
Here is a fytte of these wight yeomen,
And another I shall you tell.