THE THIRD FYTTE.
As they sat in Inglewood
Under their trysting tree,
They thought they heard a woman weep,
But her they might not see.
Sore there sigh-ed fair Al-ice,
And said, "Alas that e'er I see this day!
For now is my dear husband slain:
Alas, and well away!
"Might I have spoken with his dear brethren,
With either of them twain,
To show-e them what him befell,
My heart were out of pain."
Cloudeslie walked a little beside,
And looked under the greenwood linde;
He was ware of his wife and his children three,
Full woe in heart and mind.
"Welcome, wife," then said Willi-am,
"Under this trysting tree!
I had weened yesterday, by sweet Saint John,
Thou should me never have see."
"Now well is me," she said, "that ye be here!
My heart is out of woe."—
"Dame," he said, "be merry and glad,
And thank my brethren two."
"Hereof to speak," said Adam Bell,
"Iwis it is no boot;
The meat that we must sup withal
It runneth yet fast on foot."
Then went they down into the launde,
These noble archers all three;
Each of them slew a hart of grease,
The best that they could see.
"Have here the best, Al-ice, my wife,"
Said William of Cloudeslie,
"Because ye so boldly stood me by
When I was slain full nie."
And then they went to their supp-er
With such meat as they had,
And thanked God of their fort-une;
They were both merry and glad.
And when that they had supp-ed well,
Certain withouten lease,
Cloudeslie said: "We will to our King,
To get us a charter of peace;
Al-ice shall be at our sojourning,
In a nunnery here beside,
And my two sons shall with her go,
And there they shall abide.
"Mine eldest son shall go with me,
For him have I no care,
And he shall bring you word again
How that we do fare."
Thus be these yeomen to London gone,
As fast as they may hie,
Till they came to the King's pal-ace,
Where they would needs be.
And when they came to the King-es court,
Unto the palace gate,
Of no man would they ask no leave,
But boldly went in thereat.
They press-ed prestly into the hall,
Of no man had they dread;
The porter came after, and did them call,
And with them gan to chide.
The usher said: "Yeomen, what would ye have?
I pray you tell to me;
You might thus make officers shent,
Good sirs, of whence be ye?"
"Sir, we be outlaws of the for-est,
Certain without any lease,
And hither we be come to our King,
To get us a charter of peace."—
And when they came before the King,
As it was the law of the land,
They kneel-ed down without lett-ing,
And each held up his hand.
They said: "Lord, we beseech thee here,
That ye will grant us grace:
For we have slain your fat fallow deer
In many a sundry place."—
"What be your names?" then said our King,
"Anon that you tell me."
They said: "Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough,
And William of Cloudeslie."—
"Be ye those thieves," then said our King,
"That men have told of to me?
Here to God I make avowe
Ye shall be hanged all three!
"Ye shall be dead without merc-y,
As I am King of this land."
He commanded his officers every one
Fast on them to lay hand.
There they took these good yeomen;
And arrested them all three.
"So may I thrive," said Adam Bell,
"This game liketh not me.
"But, good lord, we beseech you now,
That ye will grant us grace,
Insomuch as we be to you comen;
Or else that we may fro you pace
With such weapons as we have here,
Till we be out of your place;
And if we live this hundred year,
Of you we will ask no grace."—
"Ye speak proudly," said the King;
"Ye shall be hanged all three."
"That were great pity," then said the Queen,
"If any grace might be.
My lord, when I came first into this land,
To be your wedded wife,
Ye said the first boon that I would ask,
Ye would grant it me belife.
"And I asked never none till now:
Therefore, good lord, grant it me."
"Now ask it, madam," said the King,
"And granted shall it be."—
"Then, good my lord, I you beseech,
These yeomen grant ye me."—
"Madam, ye might have asked a boon,
That should have been worth them all three:
"Ye might have ask-ed towers and towns,
Parks and for-ests plent-y."—
"None so pleasant to my pay," she said,
"Nor none so lief to me."—
"Madam, sith it is your desire,
Your asking granted shall be;
But I had liever have given you
Good market town-es three."
The Queen she was a glad wom-an,
And said: "Lord, gramerc-y,
I dare well undertake for them
That true men shall they be.
But, good lord, speak some merry word,
That comfort they may see."—
"I grant you grace," then said our King;
"Wash, fellows, and to meat go ye."
They had not sitten but a while,
Certain, without leas-ing,
There came two messengers out of the north,
With letters to our King.
And when they came before the King,
They kneeled down upon their knee,
And said: "Lord, your officers greet you well
Of Carlisle in the north countree."—
"How fareth my Justice?" said the King,
"And my Sheriff also?"—
"Sir, they be slain, without leas-ing,
And many an officer mo."—
"Who hath them slain?" then said the King,
"Anon thou tell-e me."—
"Adam Bell, and Clym of the Clough,
And William of Cloudeslie."—
"Alas, for ruth!" then said our King,
"My heart is wondrous sore;
I had liever than a thousand pound
I had known of this before;
For I have y-granted them grace,
And that forthinketh me:
But had I known all this before,
They had been hanged all three."—
The King he opened the letter anon,
Himself he read it tho,
And found how these three outlaws had slain
Three hundred men and mo;
First the Justice and the Sheriff,
And the Mayor of Carlisle town,
Of all the const-ables and catchipolls
Alive were left but one;
The bailiffs and the bedels both,
And the serjeants of the law,
And forty fosters of the fee,
These outlaws have they slaw;
And broken his parks, and slain his deer,
Over all they chose the best,
So perilous outlaws as they were,
Walked not by east nor west.
When the King this letter had read,
In his heart he sigh-ed sore:
"Take up the table," anon he bade:
"For I may eat no more."
The King called his best archers
To the butts with him to go;
"I will see these fellows shoot," he said,
"That in the north have wrought this woe."
The King-es bowmen busk them blive,
And the Queen's archers also,
So did these three wight yeomen;
With them they thought to go.
There twice or thrice they shot about,
For to assay their hand;
There was no shot these yeomen shot,
That any prick might them stand.
Then spake William of Cloudeslie:
"By Him that for me died,
I hold him never no good archer,
That shooteth at butts so wide."—
"Whereat, then?" said our King,
"I pray thee tell to me."—
"At such a butt, sir," he said,
"As men use in my countree."—
William went into the field,
And his two brothers with him,
There they set up two hazel rods,
Twenty score paces between.
"I hold him an archer," said Cloudeslie,
"That yonder wand cleaveth in two."—
"Here is none such," said the King,
"For no man that can so do."
"I shall assay, sir," said Cloudeslie,
"Ere that I farther go."
Cloudeslie with a bearing arrow
Clave the wand in two.
"Thou art the best archer," said the King,
"Forsooth that ever I see."—
"And yet for your love," said William,
"I will do more mastrie.
"I have a son is seven year old;
He is to me full dear;
I will tie him to a stake,
All shall see him that be here,
And lay an apple upon his head,
And go six score paces him fro,
And I myself with a broad arrow
Shall cleave the apple in two."—
"Now haste thee, then," said the King,
"By him that died on a tree,
But if thou do not as thou hast said,
Hang-ed shalt thou be.
An thou touch his head or gown,
In sight that men may see,
By all the saints that be in heaven,
I shall you hang all three."—
"That I have promised," said William,
"That I will never forsake;"
And there even, before the King,
In the earth he drove a stake,
And bound thereto his eldest son,
And bade him stand still thereat,
And turn-ed the child's face him fro,
Because he should not start.
An apple upon his head he set,
And then his bow he bent,
Six score paces they were out met,
And thither Cloudeslie went;
There he drew out a fair broad arrow;
His bow was great and long;
He set that arrow in his bow,
That was both stiff and strong.
He prayed the people that was there,
That they would still stand:
For he that shooteth for such a wag-er
Hath need of a steady hand.
Much people prayed for Cloudeslie,
That his life saved might be;
And when he made him ready to shoot,
There was many a weeping ee.
Thus Cloudeslie cleft the apple in two,
As many a man might see.
"Now God forbid," then said the King,
"That ever thou shoot at me!
I give thee eighteen pence a day,
And my bow shalt thou bear,
And over all the north countree
I make thee chief rid-er."—
"And I give thee seventeen pence a day," said the Queen,
"By God and by my fay,
Come fetch thy payment when thou wilt,
No man shall say thee nay.
William, I make thee a gentleman
Of clothing and of fee,
And thy two brethren yeomen of my chamber:
For they are seemly to see;
"Your son, for he is tender of age,
Of my wine-cellar shall he be,
And when he cometh to man's estate,
Better preferred shall he be.
And, William, bring me your wife," said the Queen,
"Me longeth her sore to see;
She shall be my chief gentlewoman,
To govern my nursery."
The yeomen thanked them full courteously,
And said: "To some bishop we'll wend,
Of all the sins that we have done
To be assoiled at his hand."
So forth be gone these good yeomen,
As fast as they might hie;
And after came and dwelt with the King,
And died good men all three.
Thus ended the lives of these good yeomen,
God send them eternal bliss;
And all that with a hand-bow shooteth,
That of heaven they may never miss!
BINNORIE.
There were two sisters sat in a bour;
Binnorie, O Binnorie!
There came a knight to be their wooer
By the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie.
He courted the eldest with glove and ring,
But he lo'ed the youngest aboon a' thing.
He courted the eldest with brooch and knife,
But he lo'ed the youngest aboon his life.
The eldest she was vex-ed sair,
And sore envi-ed her sister fair.
Upon a morning fair and clear
She cried upon her sister dear:
"O, sister, come to yon river strand,
And see our father's ships come to land."
She's ta'en her by the lily hand,
And led her down to the river strand.
And as they walk-ed by the linn,
The eldest dang the youngest in.
"O, sister, sister, reach your hand,
And ye'll be heir to a' my land!"—
"Foul fa' the hand that I wad take
To twin me o' my warld's make!"—
"O, sister, reach me but your glove,
And sweet William shall be your love!"—
"Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove,
And sweet William shall be my love:
"Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hair
Garr'd me gang maiden evermair."
She clasped her hands about a broom root,
But her cruel sister she loosed them out.
Sometimes she sunk, and sometimes she swam,
Until she came to the miller's dam.
The miller's daughter was baking bread,
She went for water as she had need.
"O father, father, draw your dam!
There's either a maid or a milk-white swan!"
The miller hasted and drew his dam,
And there he found a drowned wom-an.
You couldna see her yellow hair
For gowd and pearls that were sae rare;
You couldna see her middle sma',
Her gowden girdle was sae bra'.
A famous harper passing by,
The sweet pale face he chanced to spy;
And when he looked that ladye on,
He sighed and made a heavy moan.
He made a harp of her breast-bone,
Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone;
He's ta'en three locks of her yellow hair,
And wi' them strung his harp sae fair.
He brought it to her father's hall,
And there was the court assembled all.
He laid this harp upon a stone,
And straight it began to play alone:
"Oh, yonder sits my father, the king,
And yonder sits my mother, the queen,
And yonder stands my brother, Hugh,
And yonder my William, sweet and true."
But the last tune that the harp played then
Binnorie! O Binnorie!
Was, "Wae to my sister, false Ellen,
By the bonny mill-dams of Binnorie!"
KING COPHETUA AND THE BEGGAR-MAID.
I read that once in Africa
A princely wight did reign,
Who had to name Cophetua,
As poets they did feign:
From nature's laws he did decline,
For sure he was not of my mind,
He car-ed not for women-kind,
But did them all disdain.
But mark what happened on a day:
As he out of his window lay,
He saw a beggar all in gray,
The which did cause his pain.
The blinded boy, that shoots so trim,
From heaven down did hie;
He drew a dart and shot at him,
In place where he did lie:
Which soon did pierce him to the quick,
And when he felt the arrow prick,
Which in his tender heart did stick,
He looked as he would die.
"What sudden chance is this," quoth he,
"That I to love must subject be,
Which never thereto would agree,
But still did it defy?"
Then from the window he did come,
And laid him on his bed,
A thousand heaps of care did run
Within his troubled head:
For now he means to crave her love,
And now he seeks which way to prove
How he his fancy might remove,
And not this beggar wed.
But Cupid had him so in snare,
That this poor beggar must prepare
A salve to cure him of his care,
Or else he would be dead.
And, as he musing thus did lie,
He thought for to devise
How he might have her company,
That so did 'maze his eyes.
"In thee," quoth he, "doth rest my life;
For surely thou shalt be my wife,
Or else this hand with bloody knife
The gods shall sure suffice!"
Then from his bed he soon arose,
And to his palace gate he goes;
Full little then this beggar knows
When she the king espies.
"The gods preserve your majesty!"
The beggars all gan cry:
"Vouchsafe to give your charity
Our children's food to buy!"
The king to them his purse did cast,
And they to part it made great haste;
This silly woman was the last
That after them did hie.
The king he called her back again,
And unto her he gave his chain;
And said, "With us thou shalt remain
Till such time as we die:
"For thou," quoth he, "shalt be my wife,
And honoured for my queen;
With thee I mean to lead my life,
As shortly shall be seen:
Our wedding shall appointed be,
And every thing in its degree;
Come on," quoth he, "and follow me,
Thou shalt go shift thee clean.
What is thy name, fair maid?" quoth he.
"Zenelophon, O king," quoth she:
With that she made a low courts-ey,
A trim one as I ween.
Thus hand in hand along they walk
Unto the king's pal-ace:
The king with courteous comely talk
This beggar doth embrace:
The beggar blusheth scarlet red,
And straight again as pale as lead,
But not a word at all she said,
She was in such amaze.
At last she spake with trembling voice
And said, "O king, I do rejoice
That you will take me for your choice,
And my degree's so base."
And when the wedding day was come,
The king commanded straight
The noblemen both all and some
Upon the queen to wait.
And she behaved herself that day,
As if she had never walked the way;
She had forgot her gown of gray,
Which she did wear of late.
The proverb old is come to pass,
The priest, when he begins his mass,
Forgets that ever clerk he was;
He knoweth not his estate.
Here you may read, Cophetua,
Though long time fancy-fed,
Compell-ed by the blinded boy
The beggar for to wed:
He that did lovers' looks disdain,
To do the same was glad and fain,
Or else he would himself have slain,
In story as we read.
Disdain no whit, O lady dear,
But pity now thy servant here,
Lest that it hap to thee this year,
As to that king it did.
And thus they led a quiet life
During their princely reign;
And in a tomb were buried both,
As writers showeth plain.
The lords they took it grievously,
The ladies took it heavily,
The commons cri-ed piteously,
Their death to them was pain.
Their fame did sound so passingly,
That it did pierce the starry sky,
And throughout all the world did fly
To every prince's realm.