Chapter IV: Part 4

Yet he was begyled, i-wys,
Through a wycked womàn,
The pryoresse of Kyrkesly,[L135] 135
That nye was of hys kynne;

For the love of a knyght,
Syr Roger of Donkestèr,[L138]
That was her owne speciall,
Full evyll mote they fare.[L140] 140

They toke togyder theyr counsell
Robyn Hode for to sle,
And how they myght best do that dede,
His banis for to be.

Than bespake good Robyn, 145
In place where as he stode,
"Tomorow I muste to Kyrkesley,
Craftely to be leten blode."

Syr Roger of Donkestere,
By the pryoresse he lay, 150
And there they betrayed good Robyn Hode,
Through theyr false playe.

Cryst have mercy on his soule,
That dyed on the rode!
For he was a good outlawe, 155
And dyde pore men moch god.

9, good, OCC.

11, 12. "This alludes to the usual issue of winter robes from the
king's wardrobe to the officers of his household."

HUNTER.

15, had, Ritson.

16. Another had full sone, W.

44. Lefte never one, W.

49, lughe, W.

74, ferre, W.

75, commended for, C.

135. The little convent of Kirklees lay between Wakefield and
Halifax. HUNTER.

138, donkesley, W.

140, the, OCC.

ADAM BEL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGHE, AND WYLLYAM OF CLOUDESLÈ.

This favorite and delightful ballad was printed by William Copland, without date, but probably not far from 1550. Only a single copy of this edition is known to be preserved. There is another edition by James Roberts, printed in 1605, with a second part entitled _Young Cloudeslee_, "a very inferior and servile production," says Ritson. Mr. Payne Collier has recently recovered a fragment of an excellent edition considerably older than Copland's.

_Adam Bell, &c._, was also entered at Stationers' Hall in 1557-8, as licensed to John King. Another entry occurs in the same registers under 1582, and in 1586 mention is made of "A ballad of Willm. Clowdisley never printed before." No one of these three impressions is known to be extant.

Percy inserted this piece in his _Reliques_, (i. 158,) following Copland's edition, with corrections from his folio manuscript. Ritson adhered to Copland's text with his usual fidelity, (_Pieces of Popular Poetry_, p. 1.) We have printed the ballad from Ritson, with some important improvements derived from a transcript of Mr. Collier's fragment most kindly furnished by that gentleman. This fragment extends from the 7th verse of the second fit to the 55th of the third, but is somewhat mutilated.

"Allane Bell" is mentioned by Dunbar in company

with Robin Hood, Guy of Gisborne, and others. The editor of the _Reliques_ has pointed out several allusions to the ballad in our dramatic poets, which show the extreme popularity of the story. "Shakespeare, in his comedy of _Much Ado about Nothing_, act i. makes Benedick confirm his resolves of not yielding to love, by this protestation: 'If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat, and shoot at me, and he that hits me, let him be clapt on the shoulder, and called Adam:'--meaning Adam Bell, as Theobald rightly observes, who refers to one or two other passages in our old poets, wherein he is mentioned. The Oxford editor has also well conjectured, that 'Abraham Cupid,'in _Romeo and Juliet_, act ii. sc. 1, should be 'Adam Cupid,' in allusion to our archer. Ben Jonson has mentioned Clym o' the Clough in his _Alchemist_, act i. sc. 2. And Sir William Davenant, in a mock poem of his, called _The Long Vacation in London_, describes the attorneys and proctors as making matches to meet in Finsbury Fields.

'With loynes in canvas bow-case tyde,
Where arrowes stick with mickle pride;
Like ghosts of Adam Bell and Clymme;
Sol sits for fear they'l shoot at him.'--

_Works_, 1673, fol. p. 291."

The place of residence ascribed in the present ballad to these outlaws is Englewood or Inglewood, a forest in Cumberland sixteen miles in length, and extending from Carlisle to Penrith, which, according to Wyntown, was also frequented by Robin Hood, (_Cronykil_, vii. 10, 431.) By the author of the ballad of _Robin Hood's Birth, Breeding, Valour, and Marriage_, they are made contemporary with Robin Hood's father.

"The father of Robin a forrester was,
And he shot in a lusty strong bow
Two north-country miles and an inch at a shot,
As the Pinder of Wakefield does know.

For he brought Adam Bell, and Clim of the Clugh,
And William of Clowdesle
To shoot with our forrester for forty mark,
And the forrester beat them all three."

A state paper cited by Mr. Hunter exhibits a person of the name of Adam Bell in connection with another of Robin Hood's haunts, and is thought by that gentleman to afford a clue to the real history of one of the actors in the story.

"King Henry the Fourth, by letters enrolled in the Exchequer, in Trinity Term, in the seventh year of his reign [1406], and bearing date the 14th day of April, granted to one Adam Bell an annuity of 4_l._ 10_s._ issuing out of the fee-farm of Clipston, in the forest of Sherwood, together with the profits and advantages of the vesture and herbage of the garden called the Halgarth, in which the manor-house of Clipston is situated.

"Now, as Sherwood is noted for its connection with archery, and may be regarded also as the _patria_ of much of the ballad poetry of England, and the name of Adam Bell is a peculiar one, this might be almost of itself sufficient to show that the ballad had a foundation in veritable history. But we further find that this Adam Bell violated his allegiance by adhering to the Scots, the King's enemies; whereupon this grant was virtually resumed, and the sheriff of Nottinghamshire accounted for the rents which would have been his. In the third year of King Henry the Fifth [1416], the account was rendered by Thomas Hercy, and in the fourth year by Simon Leak. The mention of his adhesion to the Scots, leads us to the Scottish border, and will not leave a doubt in the mind of the most sceptical (!) that we have here one of the persons, some of whose deeds (with some poetical license, perhaps) are come down to us in the words of one of our popular ballads." _New Illustrations of the Life, Studies, and Writings of Shakespeare_, i. 245.

It must be confessed that Mr. Hunter is easily satisfied. The Bells were one of the most notorious of the marauding tribes of the Marches, and as late as 1593, are grouped with the Graemes and Armstrongs, in a memorial of the English Warden, as among "the bad and more vagrant of the great surnames of the border." (Rymer's _F[oe]dera_, xvi. 183, 2d ed.) Adam was a very common _pr[oe]nomen_ among these people, and is borne by two other familiar ballad heroes, Adam Gordon and Adam Car. The combination of Adam Bell must have been anything but a rarity;[27] nor could it have been an unfrequent occurrence, for a Scottish freebooter who had entered into the pay of the English King, to return to his natural connections, when a tempting opportunity offered itself, or for any Border mercenary to change sides as often as this seemed to be for his interest.

The rescue of William of Cloudesly by Adam Bell and Clym of the Clough, in the second fit, resembles in all the main points the rescue of Robin Hood by Little John and Much, in _Robin Hood and the Monk_. The incident of the shot at the apple, in the third fit, for a long time received as a part of the genuine history of William Tell, is of great antiquity, and may be traced northward from Switzerland through the various Gothic nations to the mythical legends of Scandinavia. The exploit is first narrated in the _Wilkina Saga_ of the archer Eigill, who, at Nidung's command, proves his skill at the bow by shooting an apple from his son's head. Eigill had selected three arrows, and on being questioned as to the purpose of the other two, replied that they were destined for Nidung in case the first had caused the death of his child. This form of the legend is of the 10th or 11th century. In the 12th century, Saxo Grammaticus tells this story of Toko and King Harald. The resemblance to Tell is in Toko's case stronger than in any; for, besides making the same speech about the reserved arrow, he distinguishes himself in a sea-storm, and shoots the king,--this last feat being historical, and dated 992. Similar achievements are ascribed in Norwegian sagas to St. Olaf (died, 1030), and to King Haraldr Sigurtharson (died, 1066), and in Schleswig Holstein, to Heming Wolf, who having, in 1472, been outlawed for taking part with a rebel against King Christian, and falling into the hands of his enemies, was obliged to exhibit his skill at the risk of his son's life. Again, in Sprenger's _Malleus Maleficarum_, a work of the 15th century, the story is related of one Puncher, a magician of the Rhine country; and finally, about two hundred years after the formation of the Swiss confederacy, this famous exploit is imputed to Tell, though early chroniclers have not a word to say either about him or his archery. (See Grimm's[28] _Deutsche Mythologie_, ed. 1842, pp. 353-5, p. 1214: Nork's _Mythologie der Volkssagen_, in Scheible's _Kloster_, vol. 9, p. 105, _seqq._ Many of the documents that bear upon this question are cited at length in Ideler's _Schuss des Tell_, Berlin, 1836.)

[27] Thus, in the _Parliamentary Writs_, we have two Adam Bells (_possibly_ only one) contemporary with Mr. Hunter's Robin Hood, and both resident in Yorkshire.

1315, Adam Belle, manucaptor of a burgess for Scarborough.

1324, Adam Bele, manucaptor for citizens returned for York.

[28] Grimm refers to the tradition by which Eustathius accounts for Sarpedon's being king of the Lycians, which involves a story of his two rival uncles proposing to shoot through a ring placed on the breast of a child, and of Sarpedon's being offered for that purpose by his mother; and also mentions a manuscript he had seen of travels in Turkey, which contained a picture of a man shooting at an apple placed on a child's head.

Mery it was in grene forest,
Amonge the leues grene,
Wher that men walke east and west,
With bowes and arrowes kene,

To ryse the dere out of theyr denne,-- 5
Such sightes hath ofte bene sene,--[L6]
As by thre yemen of the north countrey,[L7]
By them it is I meane.[L8]

The one of them hight Adam Bel,
The other Clym of the Clough,[L10] 10
The thyrd was William of Cloudesly,[L11]
An archer good ynough.

They were outlawed for venyson,
These yemen everechone;
They swore them brethren upon a day, 15
To Englysshe-wood for to gone.

Now lith and lysten, gentylmen,
That of myrthes loveth to here:[L18]
Two of them were single men,
The third had a wedded fere. 20

Wyllyam was the wedded man,
Muche more then was hys care:
He sayde to hys brethren upon a day,
To Carelel he would fare,

For to speke with fayre Alse hys wife, 25
And with hys chyldren thre.
"By my trouth," sayde Adam Bel,
"Not by the counsell of me.

"For if ye go to Caerlel, brother,
And from thys wylde wode wende, 30
If the justice mai you take,
Your lyfe were at an ende."

"If that I come not tomorowe, brother,
By pryme to you agayne,
Truste not els but that I am take, 35
Or else that I am slayne."

He toke hys leave of his brethren two,
And to Carlel he is gon;
There he knocked at hys owne windowe,
Shortlye and anone. 40

"Where be you, fayre Alyce, my wyfe,[L41]
And my chyldren three?
Lyghtly let in thyne owne husbande,
Wyllyam of Cloudeslè."

"Alas!" then sayde fayre Alyce, 45
And syghed wonderous sore,
"Thys place hath ben besette for you,
Thys half yere and more."

"Now am I here," sayde Cloudeslè,
"I woulde that I in were:--[L50] 50
Now feche us meate and drynke ynoughe,
And let us make good chere."

She fetched him meat and drynke plenty,
Lyke a true wedded wyfe,
And pleased hym wyth that she had, 55
Whome she loved as her lyfe.

There lay an old wyfe in that place,
A lytle besyde the fyre,
Whych Wyllyam had found, of cherytye,
More then seven yere. 60

Up she rose and walked full styll,
Evel mote she spede therefoore,[L62]
For she had not set no fote on ground
In seven yere before.

She went unto the justice hall, 65
As fast as she could hye;
"Thys nyght is come unto this town
Wyllyam of Cloudeslè."

Thereof the iustice was full fayne,
And so was the shirife also; 70
"Thou shalt not travaile hether, dame, for nought,[L71]
Thy meed thou shalt have or thou go."

They gave to her a ryght good goune,
Of scarlat it was, as I heard sayne;[L74]
She toke the gyft and home she wente, 75
And couched her downe agayne.

They rysed the towne of mery Carlel,
In all the hast that they can,
And came thronging to Wyllyames house,
As fast as they myght gone. 80

Theyr they besette that good yeman,
Round about on every syde,
Wyllyam hearde great noyse of folkes,
That heytherward they hyed.

Alyce opened a shot-wyndow,[L85] 85
And loked all about,
She was ware of the justice and shirife bothe,
Wyth a full great route.[L88]

"Alas! treason," cry'd Aleyce.
"Ever wo may thou be! 90
Go into my chambre, my husband," she sayd,[L91]
"Swete Wyllyam of Cloudeslè."

He toke hys sweard and hys bucler,
Hys bow and hy[s] chyldren thre,
And wente into hys strongest chamber, 95
Where he thought surest to be.

Fayre Alice folowed him as a lover true,
With a pollaxe in her hande;
"He shal be dead that here cometh in
Thys dore, whyle I may stand." 100

Cloudeslè bent a wel good bowe,
That was of trusty tre,
He smot the justise on the brest,
That hys arrowe brest in thre.

"God's curse on his hartt," saide William, 105
"Thys 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:" 110
"Gods curse on hys hart," sayde fair Alice,
"That my husband councelleth so."

"Set fyre on the house," saide the sherife,
"Syth it wyll no better be,
And brenne we therin William," he saide, 115
"Hys wyfe and chyldren thre."

They fyred the house in many a place,
The fyre flew up on hye;
"Alas!" then cryed fayr Alice,
"I se we here shall dy." 120

William openyd hys backe wyndow,
That was in hys chambre on hye,[L122]
And wyth shetes let hys wyfe downe,
And hys chyldren thre.

"Have here my treasure," sayde William, 125
"My wyfe and my chyldren thre,
For Christes love do them no harme,
But wreke you all on me."

Wyllyam shot so wonderous well,
Tyll hys arrowes were all ygo,[L130] 130
And the fyre so fast upon hym fell,
That hys bowstryng brent in two.

The spercles brent and fell hym on,
Good Wyllyam of Cloudeslè!
But than wax he a wofull man, 135
And sayde, "thys is a cowardes death to me.

"Leuer I had," sayde Wyllyam,
"With my sworde in the route to renne,
Then here among myne ennemyes wode,
Thus cruelly to bren." 140

He toke hys sweard and hys buckler,
And among them all he ran;
Where the people were most in prece,
He smot downe many a man.

There myght no man stand hys stroke, 145
So fersly on them he ran;
Then they threw wyndowes and dores on him,
And so toke that good yemàn.

There they hym bounde both hande and fote,
And in depe dongeon hym cast; 150
"Now, Cloudeslè," sayd the hye justice,
"Thou shalt be hanged in hast."

"One vow shal I make," sayd the sherife,
"A payre of newe galowes shall I for the make,
And the gates of Caerlel shal be shutte, 155
There shall no man come in therat.

"Then shall not helpe Clim 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 mornyng the justice uprose,
To the gates first gan he gon,
And commaundede to be shut full cloce
Lightilè everychone.

Then went he to the market place, 165
As fast as he coulde hye;
A payre of new gallous there did he up set,
Besyde the pyllory.

A lytle boy stod them amonge,
And asked what meaned that gallow tre; 170
They sayde, "to hange a good yeamàn,
Called Wyllyam of Cloudeslè."

That lytle boye was the towne swyne-heard,
And kept fayre Alyce swyne,[L174]
Oft he had seene Cloudeslè in the wodde, 175
And geuen hym there to dyne.

He went out att a creves in the wall,
And lightly to the wood dyd gone;
There met he with these wight yonge men,
Shortly and anone. 180

"Alas!" then sayde that lytle boye,
"Ye tary here all to longe;
Cloudeslè is taken and dampned to death,
All readye for to honge."

"Alas!" then sayde good Adam Bell, 185
"That ever we see thys daye!
He myght her with us have dwelled,
So ofte as we dyd him praye!

"He myght have taryed in grene foreste,
Under the shadowes sheene, 190
And have kepte both hym and us in reaste,
Out of trouble and teene!"

Adam bent a ryght good bow,
A great hart sone had he slayne;
"Take that, chylde," he sayde, "to thy dynner, 195
And bryng me myne arrowe agayne."

"Now go we hence," sayed these wight yong men,
"Tary we no lenger here;
We shall hym borowe, by gods grace,
Though we bye it full dere." 200

To Caerlel went these good yemèn,[L201]
On a mery mornyng of Maye:
Here is a fyt of Cloudesli,
And another is for to saye.

6, as hath.

7, the.

8, as I.

10, 11. Clym of the Clough means, as Percy says, Clement of the
valley; and Cloudeslè, suggests Ritson, seems to be the same with
Clodsley.

18. And that.

41, your.

50, In woulde.

62, spende.

71, fore.

74, saye. _Percy reads_, Of scarlate and of graine.

85, shop. _Percy reads_ back window.

88, great full great.

91, Gy.

122, was on.

130, gon.

174, there.

201, Cyerlel.

[THE SECOND FIT.]

And when they came to mery Caerlell,
In a fayre mornyng tyde,
They founde the gates shut them untyll,
Round about on every syde.

"Alas!" than sayd good Adam Bell, 5
"That ever we were made men!
These gates be shut so wonderly wel,[L7]
That we may not come here in."

Then spake him Clym of the Clough,
"Wyth a wyle we wyl us in bryng; 10
Let us saye we be messengers,
Streyght comen from our king."[L12]

Adam said, "I have a letter written wel,
Now let us wysely werke;
We wyl saye we have the kinges seale,[L15] 15
I holde the portter no clerke."

Then Adam Bell bete on the gate,
With strokes great and strong;
The porter herde suche noyse therat,
And to the gate faste he throng.[L20] 20

"Who is there nowe," sayde the porter,
"That maketh all thys knocking?
"We be tow messengers," sayde Clim of the Clough,
"Be comen streyght from our kyng."[L24]

"We haue a letter," sayd Adam Bel, 25
"To the justice we must it bryng;[L26]
Let us in, our messag to do,
That we were agayne to our kyng."

"Here commeth no man in," sayd the porter,[L29]
"By hym that dyed on a tre,[L30] 30
Tyll 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 longe wythout, 35
Lyke a thefe hanged shalt thou be.

"Lo here we have the kynges seale;
What! lordeyne, art thou wode?"
The porter went it had ben so,
And lyghtly dyd of hys hode. 40

"Welcome be my lordes seale," he saide,
"For that ye shall come in:"
He opened the gate full shortlye,
An evyl openyng for him.

"Now are we in," sayde Adam Bell, 45
"Thereof we are full faine,
But Christ knoweth that harowed hell,[L47]
How we shall com out agayne."

"Had we the keys," said Clim of the Clough,
"Ryght wel then shoulde we spede;[L50] 50
Then might we come out wel ynough,
"When we se tyme and nede."

They called the porter to a counsell,[L53]
And wrange hys necke in two,
And caste him in a depe dongeòn, 55
And toke hys keys hym fro.

"Now am I porter," sayde Adam Bel,
"Se, brother, the keys haue we here;
The worst porter to merry Caerlel,
That ye had thys hundred yere. 60

"And now wyll we our bowes bend,
Into the towne wyll we go,
For to delyver our dere brother,
That lyveth in care and wo."

[And thereupon] they bent theyr bowes, 65
And loked theyr stringes were round;
The market place of mery Caerlel,[L67]
They beset in that stound.[L68]

And as they loked them besyde,
A paire of new galowes ther thei see,[L71] 70
And the justice with a quest of swerers,[L72]
That had judged Cloudeslè there hanged to be.

And Cloudeslè hymselfe lay redy in a carte,
Faste bounde both fote and hand,[L74]
And a stronge rop about hys necke, 75
All readye for to be hangde.[L76]

The justice called to him a ladde,
Cloudeslè [s] clothes should he have,
To take the measure of that good yeman,[L79]
And therafter to make hys grave. 80

"I have seen as great a mearveile," said Cloudesli,
"As betwyene thys and pryme,
He that maketh thys grave for me,
Himselfe may lye therin."

"Thou speakest proudli," saide the justice, 85
"I shall the hange with my hande:"
Full wel that herd hys brethren two,[L87]
There styll as they dyd stande.

Then Cloudeslè cast hys eyen asyde,[L89]
And saw hys to brethren stande,[L90] 90
At a corner of the market place,[L91]
With theyr good bows bent in ther hand.[L92]

"I se good comfort," sayd Cloudeslè,[L93]
"Yet hope I well to fare;[L94]
If I might haue my handes at wyll, 95
Ryght lytle wolde I care."

Then spake good Adam Bell,
To Clym of the Clough so free,
"Brother, se ye marke the justyce wel,
Lo yonder ye may him see. 100

"And at the shyrife shote I wyll,
Strongly with an arrowe kene;[L102]
A better shote in mery Caerlel
Thys seven yere was not sene."

They lowsed their arrowes both at once,[L105] 105
Of no man had they dread;
The one hyt the justice, the other the sheryfe,
That both theyr sides gan blede.[L108]

All men voyded, that them stode nye,
When the justice fell downe to the grounde, 110
And the sherife fell nyghe hym by,
Eyther had his deathes wounde.

All the citezens fast gan flye,
They durst no longer abyde;
Then lyghtly they loused Cloudeslè,[L115] 115
When he with ropes lay tyde.

Wyllyam sterte to an officer of the towne,
Hys axe out of hys hande he wronge,
On eche syde he smote them downe,
Hym thought he taryed all to long. 120

Wyllyam sayde to hys brethren two,[L121]
"Thys daye let us togyder lyve and dye;[L122]
If ever you have nede as I have now,
The same shall you fynde by me."

They shot so well in that tyde, 125
For theyr stringes were of silke full sure,
That they kept the stretes on every side:[L127]
That batayle dyd longe endure.

The[y] fought together as brethren tru,
Lyke hardy men and bolde; 130
Many a man to the ground they thrue,
And many a herte made colde.[L132]

But when their arrowes were all gon,
Men preced on them full fast;[L134]
They drew theyr swordes then anone, 135
And theyr bowes from them cast.

They went lyghtlye on theyr way,
Wyth swordes and buclers round;
By that it was the myddes of the day,[L139]
They had made mani a wound.[L140] 140

There was many an out-horne in Caerlel blowen,[L141]
And the belles bacward did they ryng;[L142]
Many a woman sayd alas,
And many theyr handes dyd wryng.

The mayre of Caerlel forth com was, 145
And with hym a ful great route;
These thre yemen dred him full sore,[L147]
For of theyr lyues they stode in great doute.

The mayre came armed a full great pace,
With a pollaxe in hys hande; 150
Many a strong man with him was,
There in that stowre to stande.

The mayre smot at Cloudeslè with his bil,
Hys bucler he brust in two;
Full many a yeman with great yll,[L155] 155
"Alas, treason!" they cryed for wo.
"Kepe we the gates fast" they bad,
"That these traytours thereout not go."

But al for nought was that they wrought,
For so fast they downe were layde,[L160] 160
Tyll they all thre, that so manfulli fought,
Were gotten without at a braide.[L162]

"Have here your keys," sayd Adam Bel,
"Myne office I here forsake;
Yf you do by my councèll, 165
A new porter do ye make."[L166]

He threw the keys there at theyr heads,[L167]
And bad them evell to thryve,
And all that letteth any good yeman
To come and comfort hys wyfe. 170

Thus be these good yemen gon to the wod,
As lyght as lefe on lynde;[L172]
They lough and be mery in theyr mode,
Theyr ennemyes were ferre behynd.

When they came to Englyshe wode, 175
Under the trysty tre,[L176]
There they found bowes full good,[L177]
And arrowes full great plentye.

"So God me help," sayd Adam Bell,
And Clym of the Clough so fre, 180
"I would we were nowe in mery Caerlel,[L181]
Before that fayre meyny."

They set them downe and made good chere,
And eate and drank full well:[L184]
Here is a fet of these wyght yong men, 185
And another I shall you tell.[L186]

7, wonderous. R. (RITSON.)

12, come nowe. R.

15, seales. R.

20, R. omits faste.

24, come ryght. R.

26, me.

29, none. R.

30, Be ... upon. R.

47, knows, R.

50, shaulde.

53, a, C. (COLLIER.)

67, in, R.

68, in, C.

70, they.

71, squyers, R.

74, bounde, C.

76, to hang, R.

79, good, C.

87, that, C.

89, Claudesle.

90, brethen; Copland omits stande.

91, marked.

92. Here the old edition adds,--

'Redy the justice for to chaunce', (chase, C.)

93, Copland omits good.

94, will.

102, an, C.

105, thre.

108, sedes.

115, then.

121, brethen.

122, togyder, C.

127, sede.

132, made many a herte.

134, on, C.

139, was myd, R.

140, had, C.

141, many, C.

142, they, C.

147, thre, C.

155, evyll, R.

160, to.

162, abraide, R.

166, we.

167, theyr keys at, R.

172, And lyghtly as, R.

[THE THIRD FIT.]

As they sat in Englyshe-wood,
Under theyr trysty tre,[L2]
Them thought they herd a woman wepe,[L3]
But her they mought not se.

Sore then syghed the fayre Alyce,
And sayde, "Alas that ever I sawe this daye!
For now is my dere husband slayne,
Alas and wel a way!

"Myght I have spoken wyth hys dere brethren,[L9]
Or with eyther of them twayne, 10
[To let them know what him befell][L11]
My hart were out of payne!"[L12]

Cloudeslè walked a lytle besyde,
And loked under the grenewood linde;
He was ware of hys wife and chyldren thre, 15
Full wo in hart and mynde.

"Welcome, wife," then sayde Wyllyam,
"Under this trysty tre;[L18]
I had wende yesterday, by swete saynt John,
Thou shulde me never have se."[L20] 20

"Now well is me," she sayde, "that ye be here,
My hart is out of wo:"
"Dame," he sayde, "be mery and glad,
And thank my brethren two."[L24]

"Hereof to speake," sayd Adam Bell, 25
"I-wis it is no bote;
The meat that we must supp withall
It runneth yet fast on fote."

Then went they down into a launde,
These noble archares all thre, 30
Eche of them slew a hart of greece,[L31]
The best they could there se.

"Have here the best, Alyce my wife,"
Sayde Wyllyam of Cloudeslè,
"By cause ye so bouldly stod by me, 35
When I was slayne full nye."

Then went they to supper,[L37]
Wyth suche meat as they had,
And thanked God of ther fortune;
They were both mery and glad. 40

And when they had supped well,
Certayne without any leace,
Cloudeslè sayd, "We wyll to our kyng,
To get us a charter of peace.

"Alyce shall be at sojournyng,[L45] 45
In a nunry here besyde;
My tow sonnes shall wyth her go,
And ther they shall abyde.

"Myne eldest son shall go wyth me,
For hym have I no care, 50
And he shall breng you worde agayn[L51]
How that we do fare."

Thus be these yemen to London gone,
As fast as they might hye,
Tyll they came to the kynges pallace, 55
Where 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 into the hall,
Of no man had they dreade;
The porter came after and dyd them call,
And with them began to chyde.

The ussher sayed, "Yemen, what wold ye haue? 65
I pray you tell me;
You myght thus make offycers shent:
Good syrs, of whence be ye?"

"Syr, we be outlawes of the forest,
Certayne without any leace, 70
And hether we be come to our kyng,
To get us a charter of peace."

And whan they came before the kyng,
As it was the lawe of the lande,
The[y] kneled downe without lettyng, 75
And eche held up his hand.

The[y] sayed, "Lord, we beseche the here,
That ye wyll graunt us grace,
For we haue slaine your fat falow der,
In many a sondry place." 80

"What be your nam[e]s?" then said our king,
"Anone that you tell me:
They sayd, "Adam Bel, Clim of the Clough,
And Wyllyam of Cloudeslè."

"Be ye those theves," then sayd our kyng, 85
"That men have tolde of to me?
Here to god I make a vowe,
Ye shal be hanged al thre.

"Ye shal be dead without mercy,
As I am kynge of this lande." 90
He commanded his officers everichone
Fast on them to lay hand.

There they toke these good yemen,
And arested them all thre:
"So may I thryve," sayd Adam Bell, 95
"Thys game lyketh not me.

"But, good lorde, we beseche you now,
That you graunt vs grace,
Insomuche as we be to you comen,
Or els that 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, 105
"Ye 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 lande,
To be your wedded wyfe, 110
The fyrst bowne that I wold aske,
Ye would graunt it me belyfe;

"And I asked never none tyll now,
Therefore, good lorde, graunte it me."
"Now aske it, madam," sayd the kynge, 115
"And graunted shall it be."

"Then, my good lord, I you beseche,
These yemen graunt ye me:"
"Madame, ye myght have asked a bowne
That shuld have ben worth them all thre. 120

"Ye myght have asked towres and town[es],
Parkes and forestes plenty."
"None so pleasaunt to mi pay," she said,
"Nor none so lefe to me."

"Madame, sith it is your desyre, 125
Your askyng graunted shal be;
But I had lever have geven you
Good market townes thre."

The quene was a glad woman,
And sayd, "Lord, gramarcy; 130
I dare undertake for them,
That true men shal they be.

"But, good lord, speke som mery word,
That comfort they may se."
"I graunt you grace," then said our king, 135
"Wasshe, felos, and to meate go ye."

They had not setten but a whyle,
Certayne without lesynge,
There came messengers out of the north,
With letters to our kynge. 140

And whan the[y] came before the kynge,
They kneled downe vpon theyr kne,
And sayd, "Lord, your offycers grete you wel,
Of Caerlel in the north cuntrè."

"How fare[s] my justice," sayd the kyng, 145
"And my sherife also?"
"Syr, they be slayne, without leasynge,
And many an officer mo."

"Who hath them slayne?" sayd the kyng,
"Anone thou tell me:" 150
"Adam Bel, and Clime of the Clough,
And Wyllyam of Cloudeslè."

"Alas for rewth!" then sayd our kynge,
"My hart is wonderous sore;
I had leuer [th]an a thousand pounde, 155
I had knowne of thys before.

"For I have graunted them grace,
And that forthynketh me,
But had I knowne all thys before,
They had been hanged all thre." 160

The kyng opened the letter anone,
Hymselfe he red it th[r]o,
And founde how these thre outlawes had slaine
Thre hundred men and mo.

Fyrst the justice and the sheryfe, 165
And the mayre of Caerlel towne;
Of all the constables and catchipolles
Alyve were left not one.

The baylyes and the bedyls both,
And the sergeauntes of the law, 170
And forty fosters of the fe,
These outlawes had yslaw,

And broke his parks, and slaine his dere;
Over all they chose the best;
So perelous outlawes as they were, 175
Walked not by easte nor west.

When the kynge this letter had red,
In hys harte he syghed sore;
"Take vp the table anone," he bad,
"For I may eate no more." 180

The kyng called hys best archars,
To the buttes with hym to go;
"I wylle se these felowes shote," he sayd,
In the north have wrought this wo."

The kynges bowmen buske them blyve, 185
And the quenes archers also,
So dyd these thre wyght yemèn,
Wyth them they thought to go.

There twyse or thryse they shote about,
For to assay theyr hande; 190
There was no shote these yemen shot,
That any prycke might them stand.

Then spake Wyllyam of Cloudeslè,
"By him that for me dyed,
I hold hym never no good archar 195
That shuteth at buttes so wyde."

"Wherat?" then sayd our kyng,[L197]
"I pray thee tell me:"
"At such a but, syr," he sayd,
"As men use in my countree." 200

Wyllyam went into a fyeld,
And his to brethren with him,
There they set vp to hasell roddes,
Twenty score paces betwene.

"I hold him an archar," said Cloudeslè, 205
"That yonder wande cleveth in two:"
"Here is none suche," sayd the kyng,
"Nor none that can so do."

"I shall assaye, syr," sayd Cloudeslè,
"Or that I farther go:" 210
Cloudeslè, with a bearyng arow,
Clave the wand in to.

"Thou art the best archer," then said the king,
"Forsothe that ever I se:"
"And yet for your love," said Wylliam, 215
"I wyll do more maystry.

"I have a sonne is seven yere olde,[L217]
He is to me full deare;
I wyll hym tye to a stake,
All shall se that be here; 220

"And lay an apele upon hys head,
And go syxe score paces hym fro,
And I myselfe, with a brode arow,
Shall cleve the apple in two."

"Now haste the," then sayd the kyng, 225
"By him that dyed on a tre;
But yf thou do not as thou hast sayde,[L227]
Hanged shalt thou be.

"And thou touche his head or gowne,
In syght that men may se, 230
By all the sayntes that be in heaven,
I shall hange you all thre."

"That I have promised," said William,
"I wyl it never forsake;"
And there even before the kynge, 235
In the earth he droue a stake,

And bound therto his eldest sonne,
And bad hym stande styll therat,
And turned the childes face fro him,
Because he shuld not sterte. 240

An apple upon his head he set,
And then his bowe he bent;
Syxe score paces they were out met,
And thether Cloudeslè went.

There he drew out a fayr brode arrowe, 245
Hys bowe was great and longe,
He set that arrowe in his bowe,
That was both styffe and stronge.

He prayed the people that was there,
That they would styll stande, 250
"For he that shooteth for such a wager,
Behoveth a stedfast hand."

Muche people prayed for Cloudeslè,
That hys lyfe saved myght be,
And whan he made hym redy to shote, 255
There was many a weping eye.

Thus Cloudeslè clefte the apple in two,
That many a man myght se;[L258]
"Over gods forbode," sayde the kynge,
"That thou shote at me! 260

"I geve the xviii. pence a day,
And my bowe shalt thou beare,
And over all the north countre,
I make the chyfe rydere."

"And I geve the xvii. pence a day," said the quene, 265
"By god and by my fay;
Come feche thy payment when thou wylt,
No man shall say the nay.

"Wyllyam, I make the a gentelman,
Of clothyng and of fe, 270
And thi 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 shall he be,
And whan he commeth to mannes estate, 275
Better avaunced shall he be.

"And, Wylliam, bring me your wife," said the quene,
Me longeth her sore to se;
She shal be my chefe gentelwoman,
To governe my nursery." 280

The yemen thanketh them full curteously,
And sayde, "To some bysshop wyl we wend,
Of all the synnes that we have done
To be assoyld at his hand."

So forth be gone these good yemen, 285
As fast as they myght hye,
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, 290
And all that with hande bowe shoteth,
That of heaven may never mysse!

176, trusty, R.

177, there, C.

181, nowe, C.

184, drynke, R.

186. Another I wyll, R.

2, trusty, R.

3, they, R.

9, brethen.

11, supplied from a modern edition.

12, put out, R.

18, thus, trusty, R.

20, had.

24, brethen.

31, graece.

37, whent.

45, at our, R.

51, you breng, R.

197. At what a butte now, wold ye shot. PERCY.

227, hest.

217-258. For remarks upon this passage in the story, see the preface
to the ballad.

258. His son he did not nee. PERCY.

ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE.

This ballad was derived from the Percy Manuscript, and is printed in the _Reliques_, i. 84 (ed. 1794), with some alterations by the Editor.

"As for Guy of Gisborne," says Ritson, "the only further memorial which has occurred concerning him is in an old satirical piece by William Dunbar, a celebrated Scottish poet of the fifteenth century, on one "Schir Thomas Nory," (MS. Maitland, p. 3, MMS. More, Ll. 5, 10,) where he is named along with our hero, Adam Bell, and other worthies, it is conjectured of a similar stamp, but whose merits have not, less fortunately, come to the knowledge of posterity.

"Was nevir WEILD ROBEINE under bewch,
Nor yitt Roger of Clekkislewch,
So bauld a bairne as he;
GY OF GYSBURNE, na Allane Bell,
Na Simones sones of Quhynsell,
Off thocht war nevir so slie."

"Gisborne is a market town in the west riding of the county of York, on the borders of Lancashire."

When shaws beene sheene, and shradds full fayre,[L1]
And leaves both large and longe,
Itt is merrye walkyng in the fayre forrèst,
To heare the small birdes songe.

The woodweele sang, and wold not cease, 5
Sitting upon the spraye,
Soe lowde, he wakened Robìn Hood,
In the greenwood where he lay.

"Now, by my faye," sayd jollye Robìn,
"A sweaven I had this night; 10
I dreamt me of tow wight yemèn,[L11]
That fast with me can fight.

"Methought they did mee beate and binde,
And tooke my bowe mee froe;
Iff I be Robin alive in this lande, 15
Ile be wroken on them towe."

"Sweavens are swift, master," quoth John,
"As the wind that blowes ore a hill;
For iff itt be never so loude this night,
To-morrow itt may be still." 20

"Buske yee, bowne yee, my merry men all,
And John shall goe with mee,
For Ile goe seeke yond wight yeomèn,
In greenwood where they bee."[L24]

Then they cast on their gownes of grene, 25
And tooke theyr bowes each one;
And they away to the greene forrèst[L27]
A shooting forth are gone;

Until they came to the merry greenwood,
Where they had gladdest bee; 30
There were they ware of a wight yeomàn,[L31]
His body leaned to a tree.

A sword and a dagger he wore by his side,
Of manye a man the bane;
And he was clad in his capull hyde, 35
Topp and tayll and mayne.

"Stand you still, master," quoth Litle John,
"Under this tree so grene,
And I will go to yond wight yeomàn,
To know what he doth meane." 40

"Ah! John, by me thou settest noe store,
And that I farley finde:
How offt send I my men beffore,
And tarry my selfe behinde?

"It is no cunning a knave to ken, 45
And a man but heare him speake;
And itt were not for bursting of my bowe,
John, I thy head wold breake."

As often wordes they breeden bale,
So they parted Robin and John; 50
And John is gone to Barnesdale;
The gates he knoweth eche one.

But when he came to Barnesdale,
Great heavinesse there hee hadd,
For he found tow of his owne fellòwes, 55
Were slaine both in a slade.

And Scarlette he was flying a-foote
Fast over stocke and stone,
For the sheriffe with seven score men
Fast after him is gone. 60

"One shoote now I will shoote," quoth John,
"With Christ his might and mayne;
Ile make yond fellow that flyes soe fast,
To stopp he shall be fayne."

Then John bent up his long bende-bowe, 65
And fetteled him to shoote:
The bowe was made of tender boughe,
And fell downe to his foote.

"Woe worth, woe worth thee, wicked wood,
That ere thou grew on a tree! 70
For now this day thou art my bale,
My boote when thou shold bee."

His shoote it was but loosely shott,
Yet flewe not the arrowe in vaine,
For itt mett one of the sheriffes men, 75
Good William a Trent was slaine.

It had bene better of William a Trent
To have bene abed with sorrowe,
Than to be that day in the greenwood slade
To meet with Little Johns arrowe. 80

But as it is said, when men be mett
Fyve can doe more than three,
The sheriffe hath taken Little John,
And bound him fast to a tree.

"Thou shalt be drawen by dale and downe, 85
And hanged hye on a hill;"
"But thou mayst fayle of thy purpose," quoth John,
"If itt be Christ his will."

Lett us leave talking of Little John,
And thinke of Robin Hood, 90
How he is gone to the wight yeomàn,
Where under the leaves he stood.

"Good morrowe, good fellowe," sayd Robin so fayre,
"Good morrowe, good fellow, quoth he:
Methinkes by this bowe thou beares in thy hande, 95
A good archere thou sholdst bee."

"I am wilfulle of my waye," quo' the yemàn,
"And of my morning tyde:"
"Ile lead thee through the wood," sayd Robin,
"Good, fellow, Ile be thy guide." 100

"I seeke an outlawe," the straunger sayd,
"Men call him Robin Hood:
Rather Ild meet with that proud outlawe
Than fortye pound soe good."

"Now come with me, thou wight yemàn,[L105] 105
And Robin thou soone shalt see;
But first let us some pastime find
Under the greenwood tree.

"First let us some masterye make
Among the woods so even; 110
We may chance to meet with Robin Hood
Here att some unsett steven."

They cutt them downe two summer shroggs,
That grew both under a breere,
And sett them threescore rood in twaine, 115
To shoote the prickes y-fere.

"Leade on, good fellowe," quoth Robin Hood,
"Leade on, I do bidd thee;"
"Nay, by my faith, good fellowe," hee sayd,
"My leader thou shalt bee." 120

The first time Robin shot at the pricke,
He mist but an inch it fro;
The yeoman was an archer good,
But he cold never shoote soe.

The second shoote had the wighte yemàn,[L125] 125
He shote within the garlànde;
But Robin he shott far better than hee,
For he clave the good pricke-wande.

"A blessing upon thy heart," he sayd,
"Good fellowe, thy shooting is goode; 130
For an thy hart be as good as thy hand,
Thou wert better then Robin Hoode.

"Now tell me thy name, good fellowe," sayd he,
"Under the leaves of lyne;"
"Nay, by my faith," quoth bolde Robin, 135
"Till thou have told me thine."

"I dwell by dale and downe," quoth hee,
"And Robin to take Ime sworne;
And when I am called by my right name,
I am Guye of good Gisbòrne." 140

"My dwelling is in this wood," sayes Robin,
"By thee I set right nought:
I am Robin Hood of Barnésdale,
Whom thou so long hast sought."

He that had nether beene kithe nor kin 145
Might have seene a full fayre fight,
To see how together these yeomen went
With blades both browne and bright:

To see how these yeomen together they fought
Two howres of a summers day, 150
Yett neither Robin Hood nor sir Guy
Them fettled to flye away.

Robin was reachles on a roote,
And stumbled at that tyde;
And Guy was quicke and nimble withall, 155
And hitt him ore the left side.

"Ah, deere Ladye," sayd Robin Hood tho,
"Thou art both mother and may;
I think it was never mans destinye
To dye before his day." 160

Robin thought on our ladye deere,
And soone leapt up againe,
And strait he came with an awkwarde stroke,
And he sir Guy hath slayne.

He took sir Guys head by the hayre, 165
And sticked itt on his bowes end:
"Thou hast beene a traytor all thy liffe,
Which thing must have an end."

Robin pulled forth an Irish kniffe,
And nicked sir Guy in the face, 170
That he was never on woman born
Cold tell whose head it was.

Sayes, "Lye there, lye there now, sir Guye,
And with me be not wrothe;
Iff thou have had the worse strokes at my hand, 175
Thou shalt have the better clothe."

Robin did off his gowne of greene,
And on sir Guy did it throwe,
And hee put on that capull hyde,
That cladd him topp to toe. 180

"The bowe, the arrowes, and litle horne,
Now with me I will beare;
For I will away to Barnésdale,
To see how my men doe fare."

Robin Hood sett Guyes horne to his mouth, 185
And a loud blast in it did blow:
That beheard the sheriffe of Nottingham,
As he leaned under a lowe.

"Hearken, hearken," sayd the sheriffe,
"I heare nowe tydings good, 190
For yonder I heare sir Guyes horne blowe,
And he hath slaine Robin Hoode.

"Yonder I heare sir Guyes horne blowe,
Itt blowes soe well in tyde,
And yonder comes that wight yeomàn,[L195] 195
Cladd in his capull hyde.

"Come hyther, come hyther, thou good sir Guy,
Aske what thou wilt of mee:"
"O I will none of thy gold," sayd Robin,
"Nor I will none of thy fee. 200

"But now I have slaine the master," he sayes,
"Let me goe strike the knave;
This is all the rewarde I aske,
Nor noe other will I have."

"Thou art a madman," said the sheriffe, 205
"Thou sholdest have had a knights fee;
But seeing thy asking hath beene soe bad,
Well granted it shale be."

When Litle John heard his master speake,
Well knewe he it was his steven; 210
"Now shall I be looset," quoth Litle John,
"With Christ his might in heaven."

Fast Robin hee hyed him to Little John,
He thought to loose him belive:
The sheriffe and all his companye 215
Fast after him did drive.

"Stand abacke, stand abacke," sayd Robin,
"Why draw you mee soe neere?
It was never the use in our countrye,
Ones shrift another shold heere." 220

But Robin pulled forth an Irysh knife,
And losed John hand and foote,
And gave him sir Guyes bow into his hand,
And bade it be his boote.

Then John he took Guyes bow in his hand, 225
His boltes and arrowes eche one:
When the sheriffe saw Little John bend his bow,
He fettled him to be gone.

Towards his house in Nottingham towne
He fled full fast away, 230
And soe did all the companye,
Not one behind wold stay.

But he cold neither runne soe fast,
Nor away soe fast cold ryde,
But Litle John with an arrowe soe broad 235
He shott him into the backe-syde.

MS. 1, shales, for shaws.

11, wighty.

24, the.

27, 31, the.

105, wighty.

125, wightye.

195, wightye.

THE BIRTH OF ROBIN HOOD.

"The following ballad was taken down by the Editor from the recitation of Mrs. Brown, and is here given without the alteration of a single word."--_Jamieson_, _Popular Ballads_, ii. 44.

Another version of the same is printed in the Appendix from Buchan's collections.

O Willie's large o' limb and lith,
And come o' high degree;
And he is gone to Earl Richard
To serve for meat and fee.

Earl Richard had but ae daughter, 5
Fair as a lily flower;
And they made up their love-contract
Like proper paramour.

It fell upon a simmers nicht,
Whan the leaves were fair and green, 10
That Willie met his gay ladie
Intil the wood alane.

"O narrow is my gown, Willie,
That wont to be sae wide;
And gane is a' my fair colour, 15
That wont to be my pride.

"But gin my father should get word
What's past between us twa,
Before that he should eat or drink,
He'd hang you o'er that wa. 20

"But ye'le come to my bower, Willie,
Just as the sun goes down;
And kep me in your arms twa,
And latna me fa' down."

O whan the sun was now gane down, 25
He's doen him till her bower;
And there, by the lee licht o' the moon,
Her window she lookit o'er.

Intill a robe o' red scarlet
She lap, fearless o' harm; 30
And Willie was large o' lith and limb,
And keepit her in his arm.

And they've gane to the gude green-wood,
And ere the night was deen,
She's borne to him a bonny young son, 35
Amang the leaves sae green.

Whan night was gane, and day was come,
And the sun began to peep,
Up and raise the Earl Richard
Out o' his drowsy sleep. 40

He's ca'd upon his merry young men,
By ane, by twa, and by three,
"O what's come o' my daughter dear,
That she's nae come to me?

"I dreamt a dreary dream last night, 45
God grant it come to gude!
I dreamt I saw my daughter dear
Drown in the saut sea flood.

"But gin my daughter be dead or sick,
Or yet be stown awa, 50
I mak a vow, and I'll keep it true,
I'll hang ye ane and a!"

They sought her back, they sought her fore,
They sought her up and down;
They got her in the gude green wood, 55
Nursing her bonny young son.

He took the bonny boy in his arms,
And kist him tenderlie;
Says, "Though I would your father hang,
Your mother's dear to me." 60

He kist him o'er and o'er again;
"My grandson I thee claim;
And Robin Hood in gude green wood,
And that shall be your name."

And mony ane sings o' grass, o' grass, 65
And mony ane sings o' corn;
And mony ane sings o' Robin Hood,
Kens little whare he was born.

It was na in the ha', the ha',
Nor in the painted bower; 70
But it was in the gude green wood,
Amang the lily flower.

ROSE THE RED, AND WHITE LILLY.

_Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, iii. 208.

This legend and the preceding are placed in this volume solely on account of the names given to the personages who figure in them. In character they have no affinity with the recognized circle of Robin Hood ballads. The story is of a more ancient cast, and also of a type common to the northern nations, and we have no doubt that Robin Hood and Little John were in the day of their popularity made to displace heroes of immemorial prescription, in order to give eclat to an old tale.

Of _Rose the Red, and White Lilly_, three versions have been published. The present is that of Scott, given "chiefly" from Mrs. Brown's manuscript. Kinloch's is subjoined, and another, furnished by Buchan, is printed in the Appendix.

O Rose the Red, and White Lilly,
Their mother deir was dead;
And their father has married an ill woman,
Wish'd them twa little guid.