XLV
He went out att a crevis of the wall,
And lightly to the woode dyd gone;
There met he with these wight yemen
Shortly and anone.
XLVI
‘Alas!’ then sayde the lytle boye,
‘Ye tary here all too longe;
Cloudeslee is taken, and dampned[669] to death,
And readye for to honge.’
XLVII
‘Alas!’ then sayd good Adam Bell,
‘That ever we saw thys daye!
He had better have tarryed with us,
So ofte as we dyd him praye.
XLVIII
‘He myght have dwelt in grene foreste,
Under the shadowes greene,
And have kepte both hym and us att reste,
Out of all trouble and teene[670].’
XLIX
Adam bent a ryght good bow,
A great hart sone hee had slayne:
‘Take that, chylde, to thy dynner,
And bryng me myne arrowe agayne.’