Chapter III: Part 3

He turned his face unto the stock,

And she hers to the stane;

And cauld and dreary was the love

That was these twa between.

Great mirth was in the kitchen,

Likewise intill the ha';

But in his bed lay Earl Richard,

Wiping the tears awa'.

He wept till he fell fast asleep,

Then slept till light was come;

Then he did hear the gentlemen

That talked in the room:

Said,--"Saw ye ever a fitter'match,

Betwixt the ane and ither;

The King o' Scotland's fair dochter,

And the Queen of England's brither?"

"And is she the King o' Scotland's fair dochter?

This day, oh, weel is me!

For seven times has my steed been saddled,

To come to court with thee;

And with this witty lady fair,

How happy must I be!"

ADAM BEL, CLYM OF THE CLOUGH,AND WILLIAM OF CLOUDESLE

|Merry it was in green forest,

Among the leaves green,

Where that men walk east and west,

With bows and arrows keen.

To raise the deer out of their den,--

Such sights hath oft been seen,--

As by three yeomen of the north country,

By them it is I mean.

The one of them hight Adam Bel,

The other Clym of the Clough,

The third was. William of Cloudesle,

An archer good enough.

They were outlawed for venison,

These yeomen every one;

They swore them brethren upon a day,

To English-wood for to gone.

Now lith and listen, gentlemen,

That of mirths loveth 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 Bel,

"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."

(_hight_, was called. _lith_, listen. _fere_, mate.)

"If that I come not tomorrow, 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 window,

Shortly and anon.

"Where be you, fair Alice, my wife,

And my children three?

Lightly let in thine own husband,

William of Cloudeslè."

"Alas!" then said fair Alice,

And sighed wondrous sore,

"This place hath been beset for you,

This half year and more."

"Now am I here," said Cloudeslè,

"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 plenty,

Like a true wedded wife,

And pleased 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,

More than seven year.

Up she rose and walked full still,

Evil mote she sped 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 Cloudeslè."

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 or thou go."

They gave to her a right good gown,

Of scarlet it was, as I heard sayen;

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 thronging to Williams house,

As fast as they might gone.

(_found--i.e._ found for, provided for. _still_, quietly)

There they beset that good yeoman,

Round about on every side,

William heard great noise of folks,

That hitherward they hied.

Alice opened a shot-window,

And looked all about,

She was ware of the justice and 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 Cloudeslè."

He took his sword and his buckler,

His bow and his children three,

And went into his strongest chamber,

Where he thought surest to be.

Fair Alice followed him as a lover true,

With a pollaxe in her hand;

"He shall be dead that here cometh in

This door, while I may stand."

Cloudeslè bent a well good bow,

That was of trusty tree,

He smote the justice on the breast,

That his arrow burst in three.

(_shot-window_, projecting window.)

"Gods 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, Cloudeslè," said the justice,

"And thy bow and thy arrows thee fro:"

"Gods curse on his heart," said fair Alice,

"That my husband counselleth so."

"Set fire on the house," said the sheriff,

"Sith it will no better be,

And we burn therein William," he said,

"His wife and children three."

They fired the house in many a place,

The fire flew up on high;

"Alas!" then cried fair Alice,

"I see we here shall die."

William opened his back window,

That was in his chamber on high,

And with sheets let his wife down,

And his children three.

"Have here my treasure," said William,

"My wife and my children three,

For Christ's love do them no harm,

But wreak you all on me."

William shot so wondrous well,

Till his arrows were all ygo,

And the fire so fast upon him fell,

That his bowstring brent in two.

The spercles brent and fell him on,

Good William of Cloudesle!

But then wax he a woeful man,

And said, "this is a coward's death to me.

"Liever I had," said William,

"With my sword in the rout to renne,

Then here among mine ennemies wode,

Thus cruelly to bren."

He took his sword and his buckler,

And among them all he ran;

Where the people were most in press,

He smote down many a man.

There might no man stand his stroke,

So fiercely on them he ran;

Then they threw windows and doors on him,

And so took that good yeoman.

There they him bound both hand and foot,

And in deep dungeon him cast;

"Now, Cloudesle," said the high justice,

"Thou shalt be hanged in haste."

(_ygo_, gone, _brent_, burst and burnt, _spercles_, sparks, _renne_, run.

_wode_, fierce. _press_, crowd.)

"One vow shall I make," said the sheriff,

"A pair of new gallows shall I for thee make,

And the gates of Carlisle shall be shut,

There shall no man come in thereat.

"Then shall not help Clym of the Clough,

Nor yet shall Adam Bel,

Though they came with a thousand more,

Nor all the devils in hell."

Early in the morning the justice uprose,

To the gates first gan he gone,

And commanded to be shut full close

Lightilè everyone.

Then went he to the market place,

As fast as he could hie;

A pair of new gallows there did he up set,

Beside the pillory.

A little boy stood them among,

And asked what meaned that gallow tree -,

They said, "to hang a good yeoman,

Called William of Cloudeslè."

That little boy was the town swine-herd,

And kept fair Alice swine,

Oft he had seen Cloudeslè in the wood,

And given him there to dine.

(_lightilè,_ quickly.)

He went out at a crevice in the wall,

And lightly to the wood did gone;

There met he with these wight young men,

Shortly and anon.

"Alas!" then said that little boy,

"Ye tarry here all too long;

Cloudesle is taken and damned to death,

All ready for to hong."

"Alas!" then said good Adam Bel,

"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 forest,

Under the shadows sheen,

And have kept both him and us in rest,

Out of 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 young men,

"Tarry we no longer here;

We shall him borrow, by God's grace,

Though we buy it full dear."

(_teen_, woe. _borrow_, rescue.)

To Carlisle went these good yeomen,

On a merry morning of May:

Here is a fit of Cloudeslè,

And another is for to say.

[THE SECOND FIT.]

|And when they came to merry Carlisle,

In a fair 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 work;

We will say we have the king's seal,

I hold the porter no clerk."

Then Adam Bel beat on the gate,

With strokes great and strong;

The porter heard such noise thereat,

And to the gate fast he throng.

(_throng,_ hurried.)

"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 Bel,

"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 a false thief be hanged,

Called William of Cloudeslè.

Then spake the good yeoman Clym of the Clough,

And swore by Mary free,

"And if that we stand long without,

Like a thief hanged shalt thou be.

"Lo here we have the kings seal;

What! lordeyne, art thou wode?"

The porter wend it had been so,

And lightly did off his hode.

"Welcome be my lord's seal," he said,

"For that ye shall come in:"

He opened the gate full shortly,

An evil opening for him.

(_free_, gracious. _lordeyne_, clown. _wode_, mad.

_wend_, weened, thought. _hode_, hood.)

"Now are we in," said Adam Bel,

"Thereof we are full fain,

But Christ 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 council,

And wrang his neck in two,

And cast him in a deep dungeon,

And took his keys him fro.

"Now am I porter," said Adam Bel,

"See, brother, the keys, have we here;

The worst porter to merry Carlisle,

That ye had this hundred year.

"And now will we our bows bend,

Into the town will we go,

For to deliver our dear brother,

That liveth in care and woe."

[And thereupon] they bent their bows,

And looked their strings were round;

The market place of merry Carlisle,

They beset in that stound.

And as they looked them beside,

A pair of new gallows there they see,

And the justice with a quest of swearers,

That had judged Cloudeslè there hanged to be.

And Cloudeslè himself lay ready 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,

Cloudeslès clothes should he have,

To take the measure of that good yeoman,

And thereafter to make his grave.

"I have seen as great a marvel," said Cloudeslè,

"As between this and prime,

He that maketh this grave for me,

Himself may lie therein."

"Thou speakest proudly," said the justice,

"I shall thee hang with my hand:"

Full well that heard his brethren-two,

There still as they did stand.

Then Cloudeslè cast his eyen aside,

And saw his two brethren stand,

At a corner of the market place,

With their good bows bent in their hand.

(_quest,_ jury.)

"I see good comfort," said Cloudeslè,

"Yet hope I well to fare;

If I might have my hands at will,

Right little would I care."

Then spake good Adam Bel,

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 an 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 dread;

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 down to the ground,

And the sheriff fell nigh him by,

Either had had his deaths wound.

All the citizens fast gan fly,

They durst no longer abide;

Then lightly they loosed Cloudeslè,

When he with ropes lay tied.

William stert to an officer of the town,

His axe out of his hand he wrong,

On each side he smote them down,

Him thought he tarried all too long.

William said to his brethren two,

"This day let us together live and die;

If ever you have need as I have now,

The same shall you 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 a heart made cold.

But when their arrows were all gone,

Men pressed on them full fast;

They drew their swords then anon,

And their bows from them cast.

They went lightly on their way,

With swords and bucklers round;

By that it was the middle of the day,

They had made many a wound.

(_stert,_ rushed. _wrong_, wrung. _sure_, trusty.)

There was many an out-horn in Carlisle blowen,

And the bells backward did they 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 of their lives they stood in great doubt.

The mayor came armed a full great pace,

With a pollaxe in his hand;

Many a strong man with him was,

There in that stour to stand.

The mayor smote at Cloudesle 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 gates fast," they bad,

"That these traitors theréout 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 Bel,

"Mine office I here forsake;

If you do by my counsèl,

A new porter do ye make."

(_stour_, battle. _at a braid_, in a moment.)

He threw the keys there at their heads,

And bad them evil to thrive,

And all that letteth any good yeoman

To come and comfort his wife.

Thus be these good yeomen gone to the wood,

As light as leaf on lind;

They laugh and be merry in their mood,

Their enemies were far behind.

When they came to English wood,

Under the try sty tree,

There they found bows full good,

And arrows full great plenty.

"So God me help," said Adam Bel,

And Clym of the Clough so free,

"I would we were now in merry Carlisle,

Before that fair meany."

They set them down and made good cheer,

And eat and drank full well:

Here is a fit of these wight young men,

And another I shall you tell.

(_letteth,_ hindereth. _lind,_ tree.

_trysty tree_, trysting tree. _meany_, company.)

[THE THIRD FIT.]

|As they sat in English-wood,

Under their trysty tree,

Them thought they heard a woman weep,

But her they might not see.

Sore then sighed the fair Alice,

And said, "Alas that ever I saw this day!

For now is my dear husband slain,

Alas and well a way!

"Might I have spoken with his dear brethren,

Or with either of them twain,

[To let them know what him befell]

My heart were out of pain!"

Cloudeslè walked a little beside,

And looked under the greenwood lind;

He was ware of his wife and children three,

Full woe in heart and mind.

"Welcome, wife," then said William,

"Under this try sty 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 Bel,

"I-wis it is no boot;

The meat that we must sup withal

It runneth yet fast on foot."

Then went they down into a laund,

These noble archers all three,

Each of them slew a hart of grice,

The best they could there see.

"Have here the best, Alice, my wife,"

Said William of Cloudeslè,

"Because ye so boldly stood by me,

When I was slain full nigh.

Then went they to supper,

With such meat as they had,

And thanked God of their fortune;

They were both merry and glad.

(_laund_, glade. _grice_, grey.)

And when they had supped well,

Certain without any lease,

Cloudesle said, "We will to our king,

To get us a charter of peace.

"Alice shall be at sojourning,

In a nunnery here beside;

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 might hie,

Till they came to the kings palace,

Where they would needs be.

And when they came to the king's court,

Unto the palace gate,

Of no man would they aske no leave,

But boldly went in thereat.

They pressed prestly into the hall,

Of no man had they dread;

The porter came after and did them call,

And with them began to chide.

(_lease_, lies. _prestly,_ quickly.)

The usher said, "Yeomen, what would ye have?

I pray you tell me;

You might thus make officers shent:

Good sirs, of whence be ye?"

"Sir, we be outlaws of the forest,

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 kneeled down without letting,

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 Bel, Clym of the Clough,

And William of Cloudeslè."

"Be ye those thieves," then said our king,

"That men have told of to me?

Here to God I make a vow,

Ye shall be hanged all three.

(_shent_, disgraced.)

Ye shall be dead without mercy,

As I am king of this land."

He commanded his officers everyone

Fast on them to lay hand.

There they took these good yeomen,

And arrested them all three:

"So may I thrive," said Adam Bel,

"This game liketh not me.

"But, good lord, we beseech you now,

That you grant us grace,

Insomuch as we be to you comen,

Or else that we may fro you pass,

"With such weapons as we have here,

Till we be out of your place;

And if we live this hundreth year,

We will ask you 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,

The first boon that I would ask,

Ye would grant it me belife;

(_belife_, at once.)

"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, my good 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 asked towers and towns,

Parks and forests plenty."

"None so pleasant to me pay," she said,

"Nor none so lief to me."

"Madam, sith it is your desire,

Your asking granted shall be;

But I had liefer have given you

Good market towns three."

The queen was a glad woman,

And said, "Lord, gramercy;

I dare 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 setten but a while,

Certain without leasing,

There came 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 countrè."

"How fares my justice," said the king,

"And my sheriff also?"

"Sir, they be slain, without leasing,

And many an officer moe."

"Who hath them slain?" said the king,

"Anon thou tell me:"

"Adam Bel, and Clym of the Clough,

And William of Cloudeslè."

"Alas for ruth!" then said our king,

"My heart is wondrous sore;

I had liefer than a thousand pound,

I had known of this before.

"For I have granted them grace,

And that forthinketh me,

But had I known all this before,

They had been hanged all three."

(_leasing_, lying. _forthinketh_, repenteth.)

The king opened the letter anon,

Himself he read it thro,

And found how these three outlaws had slain

Three hundred men and moe.

First the justice and the sheriff,

And the mayor of Carlisle town;

Of all the constables and catchpolls

Alive were left not one.

The bailiffs and the beadle both,

And the sergeants of the law,

And forty fosters of the fee,

These outlaws had yslaw,

And broke 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 sighed sore;

"Take up the table anon," he bad,

"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,

"In the north have wrought this woe."

(_catchpolls_, bumbailiffs. _fosters_, foresters.

_of the fee_, in the pay of the king. _yslaw_, slain.)

The kings bowmen busk them blithe,

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 essay their hand;

There was no shot these yeomen shot,

That any prick might them stand.

Then spake William of Cloudeslè,

"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 me:"

"At such a butt, sir," he said,

"As men use in my countre."

William went into a field,

And his two brethren with him,

There they set up two hazel rods,

Twenty score paces between.

"I hold him an archer," said Cloudeslè,

"That yonder wand cleaveth in two:

"Here is none such," said the king,

"Nor none that can so do."

(_busk_, make ready. _prick_, peg in target)

"I shall essay, sir," said Cloudeslè,

"Or that I farther go:"

Cloudeslè, with a bearing arrow,

Clave the wand in two.

"Thou art the best archer," then said the king,

"Forsooth that ever I see

"And yet for your love," said William,

"I will do more maistry.

"I have a son is seven year old,

He is to me full dear;

I will him tie to a stake,

All shall see 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,

Hanged shalt thou be.

"And thou touch his head or gown,

In sight that men may see,

By all the saints that be in heaven,

I shall hang you all three."

(_maistry_, mastery.)

"That I have promised," said William,

"I will it never forsake;"

And there even before the king,

In the earth he drove a stake,

And bound thereto his eldest son,

And bad him stand still thereat,

And turned the child's face fro him,

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 Cloudesle 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 wager,

Behoveth a stedfast hand."

Much people prayed for Cloudeslè,

That his life saved might be,

And when he made him ready to shoot,

There was many a weeping eye.

(_met_, meted, measured.)

Thus Cloudeslè cleft the apple in two,

That many a man might see;

"Over God's forbode," said the king,

"That thou shoot at me!

"I give thee xviii. pence a day,

And my bow shalt thou bear,

And over all the north count re,

I make thee chief rider,"

"And I give thee xvii. 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 so 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 avaunced shall he be.

"And, William, bring me your wife," saidthe queen,

"Me longeth her sore to see;

She shall be my chief gentlewoman,

To govern my nursery."

(_fay_, faith.

_Over God's forbode_, on God's prohibition, i.e. God forbid.)

The yeomen thanketh them full courteously,

And said, "To some bishop will we 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 dwelled with the king,

And died good men all three.

Thus endeth the lives of these good yeomen,

God send them eternal bliss,

And all that with hand bow shooteth,

That of heaven may never miss.

(_assoiled_, absolved.)

THE BRAVE EARL BRAND

|O did you ever hear o' brave Earl Bran?

Ay lally, o lilly lally!

He courted the king's daughter of fair England,

All i' the night sae early.

She was scarcely fifteen years of age,

Till sae boldly she came to his bed-side.

"O, Earl Bran, fain wad I see

A pack of hounds let loose on the lea."

"O lady, I have no steeds but one,

And thou shalt ride, and I will run."

"O Earl Bran, my father has two,

And thou shalt have the best of them a'."

They have ridden o'er moss and moor,

And they met neither rich nor poor,

Until they met with old Carl Hood,

He comes for ill, but never for good.

"Earl Bran, if ye love me,

Seize this old carl, and gar him die."

"O lady fair, it wad be sair,

To slay an old man that has grey hair.

"O lady fair, I'll no do sae,

I'll gie him a pound, and let him gae."

"O where hae ye ridden this lee lang day,

And where hae ye stolen this lady away?"

"I have not ridden this lee lang day,

Nor yet have I stolen this lady away.

"She is my only, my sick sister,

Whom I have brought from Winchester."

"If she be sick, and like to dead,

Why wears she the ribbon sae red?

"If she be sick, and like to die,

Then why wears she the gold on high?"

Then he came to this lady's gate,

Sae rudely as he rapped at it.

"O where's the lady of this ha'?"

"She's out with her maids to play at the ba'."

"Ha, ha, ha! ye are a' mista'en;

Gae count your maidens o'er again.

"I saw her far beyond the moor,

Away to be the Earl o' Bran's whore."

The father armed fifteen of his best men,

To bring his daughter back again.

O'er her left shoulder the lady looked then;

"O Earl Bran, we both are ta'en."

"If they come on me ane by ane,

You may stand by and see them slain."

"But if they come on me one and all,

You may stand by and see me fall."

They have come on him ane by ane,

And he has killed them all but ane.

And that ane came behind his back,

And he's gi en him a deadly whack.

But for a' sae wounded as Earl Bran was,

He has set his lady on her horse.

They rode till they came to the water o' Doune,

And then he alighted to wash his wounds.

"O Earl Bran, I see your heart's blood!"

"Tis but the gleat o' my scarlet hood."

They rode till they came to his mother's gate,

And sae rudely as he rapped at it.

"O my son's slain, my son's put down,

And a' for the sake of an English loon."

(_ghat_, gleam.)

"O say not sae, my dear mother,

But marry her to my youngest brother.

"This has not been the death o' ane,

But it's been that of fair seventeen."

THE NUTBROWN 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 weel, for never a deal

They love a man again:

For let a man do what he can

Their favour to attain,

Yet if a new do them pursue,

Their first true lover than

Laboureth for nought, and from her thought

He is a banished man."

(_deal_, bit. _than_, then.)

"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 witness

In this case might be laid,

That they love true, and continue,--

Record _the nutbrown 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 manner

Between them two; we will also

Tell all the pain and fear

That she was in; now I begin,

See that ye me answer:

Wherefore [all] 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 fulfill

In this will not refuse,

Trusting to shew, in words 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 anon:

For in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone.'"

"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 outlaw,

And take me to my bow.

Wherefore, adieu, my own heart true,

None other red I can;

For I must to the green wood go,

Alone, a banished man."

"O Lord, what is this worldés 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 depart not so soon.

Why say ye so? Whither will ye go?

Alas, what have ye done?

(_red_, plan. _darked_, darkened.)

All my welfare to sorrow and care

Should change, if ye were gone:

For in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone."

"I can believe it shall you grieve,

And somewhat you distrain;

But afterward your painés hard,

Within a day or twain,

Shall soon aslake, and ye shall take

Comfort to you again.

Why should ye nought? for, to make thought

Your labour were in vain:

And thus I do, and pray you, too,

As heartily as I can:

For I must to the green wood go,

Alone, a banished man."

"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 Nutbrown Maid

Was to her love unkind.

Make you ready, for so am I,

Although it were anon;

For in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone."

"Yet I you rede to take good heed

What men will think and say -,

Of young and 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 woman,

Yet would I to the green wood go

Alone, a banished man."

"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;

But in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone."

"I counsel yow remember how

It is no maiden's law,

Nothing to doubt, but to renne out

To wood with an outlaw.

(_tho_, those. _renne_, run.)

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 yow great harm might grow;--

Yet had I liefer than

That I had to the greenwood go

Alone, a banished man."

"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."

"For an outlaw this is the law,

That men him take and bind,

Without pity hanged to be,

And waver with the wind.

If I had need, as God forbid,

What rescue could ye find?

For sooth, I trow, you and your bow

Should draw for fear behind:

And no merveil; for little avail

Were in your counsel than;

Wherefore I to the wood will go

Alone, a banished man."

"Full well know ye that women be

Full feeble for to fight;

No womanhead is it 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 one:

For in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone."

"Yet take good heed; for ever I dread

That ye could not sustain

The thorny ways, the deep vallies,

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 rove

But a brake bush or twain;

Which soon should grieve you, I believe,

And ye would gladly than

That I had to the greenwood go

Alone, a banished man."

(_than_, then. _rove_, roof.)

"Sith I have here been partinere

With you of joy and bliss,

I must also part of your woe

Endure, as reason is;

Yet am I sure of one pleasure,

And shortly, it is this;

That where ye be, meseemth, 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."

"If ye go thither, ye must consider,

When ye have lust to dine,

There shall no meat be for to get,

Nor drink, beer, ale, ne wine;

Ne sheetés clean to lie between,

Made of thread and twine:

None other house but leaves and boughs

To cover your head and mine.

Lo, mine heart sweet, this ill diet

Should make you pale and wan:

Wherefore I to the wood will go

Alone, a banished man."

"Among the wild deer such an archer

As men say that ye be

Ne may not fail of good vitail,

Where is so great plenty;

(_partinere_, partner. _vitail_, victual)

And water clear of the river

Shall be full sweet to me,

With which in hele I shall right weel

Endure, as ye shall see:

And ere we go, a bed or two

I can provide anon;

For in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone."

"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;

And [if] ye will all this fulfill,

Do it shortly as ye can:

Else will I to the greenwood go

Alone, a banished man."

"I shall as now do more for you

Than longeth to womanhood,

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 dread!

But now, adieu! I must ensue

Where fortune doth me lead.

(_hele_, health.)

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."

"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,

I n like wise, hardily,

Ye would answer, who so ever it were,

In way of company.

It is said of old, soon hot, soon cold,

And so is a woman;

Wherefore I to the wood will go

Alone, a banished man."

"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, perde.

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, what so befall,

To die therefore anon;

For in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone."

"A baron's child to be beguiled,

It were a cursed deed!

To be fellow with an outlaw,

Almighty God forbid!

Yet better were the poor squire

Alone to forest yede,

Than ye shall say another day,

That by [my] wicked deed

Ye were betrayed; wherefore, good maid,

The best red that I can

Is that I to the green wood go

Alone, a banished man."

"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 weel, how that ye deal,

For if ye, as ye said,

Be so unkind to leave behind

Your love, the Nutbrown Maid,

Trust me truly, that I shall die,

Soon after ye be gone;

For in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone."

"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:

(_yede_, went. _red_, advice.)

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."

"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 courteous every hour,

Glad to fulfill all that she will

Command me to my power;

For had ye, lope, an hundred moe

Yet would I be that one.

For in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone."

"Mine own dear love, I see the prove

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 changed new;

For it were ruth that for your truth

You should have cause to rue.

(_lo'e,_ love.)

Be not dismayed: whatsoever I said

To you when I began,

I will not to the green wood go;

I am no banished man."

"This 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 wordés on the spleen.

Ye shape some wile me to beguile,

And steal fro me, I ween;

Then were the case worse than it was,

And I more woe-begone;

For in my mind, of all mankind

I love but you alone."

"Ye shall not need further to dread:

I will not disparage

You, God defend! sith you descend

Of so great a lineage.

Now understand, to Westmoreland,

Which is my heritage,

I will you bring, and with a ring,

By way of marriage,

I will you take, and lady make,

As shortly as I can:

Thus have ye won an earlés 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 variable;

But rather pray God, that we may

To them be comfortable,

Which sometime proveth such as loveth,

If they be charitable;

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.

ROBIN HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE

|When shaws been sheen, and shrads full fair,

And leaves both large and long,

It is merry walking in the fair forrèst,

To hear the small bird's song.

The woodweel sang, and would not cease,

Among the leaves o' line;

And it is by two wight yeomen,

By dear God, that I mean. *

(_shaws_ wood. _sheen,_ bright.

_shrad,_ an opening in a wood. _line,_ tree.)

* The lost stanza probably states that Robin Hood is having a dream.

"Methought they did me beat and bind,

And took my bow me fro;

If I be Robin alive in this land,

I'll be wroken on them two."

"Swevens are swift, master," quoth John,

"As the wind that blows o'er a hill;

For if it be never so loud this night,

To-morrow it may be still."

"Busk ye, boun ye, my merry men all,

For John shall go with me,

For I'll go seek yond wight yeomen,

In greenwood where they be."

They cast on their gowns of green,

A shooting gone are they;

Until they came to the merry greenwood,

Where they had gladdest be;

There were they ware of [a] wight yeoman,

His body leaned to a tree.

A sword and a dagger he wore by his side,

Had been many a mans bane;

And he was clad in his capull hide,

Top and tail and mane.

(_wroken_, revenged. _swevens_, dreams.

_boun_, make ready. _capull_, horse.)

"Stand you still, master," quoth Little John,

"Under this trusty tree,

And I will go to yond wight yeoman,

To know his meaning truly."

"Ah! John, by me thou sets no store,

And that's a farley thing:

'How oft send I my men before,

And tarry myself behind?

"It is no cunning a knave to ken,

And a man but hear him speak;

And it were not for bursting of my bow,

John, I would thy head break."

But often words they breeden bale,

That parted Robin and John;

John is gone to Barnesdale;

The gates he knows each one.

And when he came to Barnesdale,

Great heaviness there he had,

He found two of his own fellows,

Were slain both in a slade.

And Scarlet a-foot flying was

Over stocks and stone,

For the sheriff with seven score men

Fast after him is gone.

(_farley_, strange. _bale_, mischief or sorrow. _slade_, valley.)

"Yet one shot I'll shoot," says Little John,

"With Christ his might and main;

I'll make yond fellow that flies so fast,

To be both glad and fain."

John bent up a good yew bow,

And fettled him to shoot:

The bow was made of a tender bough,

And fell down to his foot.

"Woe worth thee, wicked wood," said Little John,

"That ere thou grew on a tree!

For this day thou art my bale,

My boot when thou should be."

This shot it was but loosely shot,

The arrow flew in vain,

And it met one of the sheriffs men,

Good William a Trent was slain.

It had been better for William a Trent

To have been upon a gallow,

Than for to lie in the greenwood

There slain with an arrow.

And it is said, when men be met

Six can do more than three,

And they have taen Little John,

And bound him fast to a tree.

(_fettled_, made ready.)

"Thou shalt be drawn by dale and down," quoth the sheriff,

"And hanged high on a hill;"

"But thou may fail," quoth John,

"If it be Christs own will."

Let us leave talking of Little John,

For he is bound fast to a tree,

And talk of Guy and Robin Hood,

In the green wood where they be.

How these two yeomen together they met,

Under the leaves of line,

To see what merchandise they made,

Even at that same time.

"Good morrow, good fellow," quoth Sir Guy,

"Good morrow, good fellow," quoth he:

"Methinks by this bow thou bears in thy hand,

A good archer thou seems to be.

"I am wilful of my way," quoth Sir Guy,

"And of my morning tide:"

"I'll lead thee through the wood,"quoth Robin,

"Good fellow, I'll be thy guide."

"I seek an outlaw," quoth Sir Guy,

"Men call him Robin Hood:

I'd rather meet with him upon a day,

Than forty pound of gold."

(_line_, tree.)

"If you two met, it would be seen whether were better,

Afore ye did part away;

Let us some other pastime find,

Good fellow, I thee pray.

"Let us some masteries make,

And we will walk in the woods even;

We may chance meet with Robin Hood

Here at some unset steven."

They cut them down two summer shrogs,

Which grew both under a briar,

And set them threescore rood in twin,

To shoot the pricks full near.

"Lead on, good fellow," said Sir Guy,

"Lead on, I do bid thee;"

"Nay, by my faith," quoth Robin Hood,

"The leader thou shalt be."

The first good shot that Robin led

Did not shoot an inch the prick fro';

Guy was an archer good enough,

But he could ne er shoot so.

(_unset steven_, unappointed time.

_shrogs_, shrubs.

_in twin_, apart.)

The second shot Sir Guy shot,

He shot within the garland;

But Robin Hood shot it better than he,

For he clove the good prick-wand.

"God's blessing on thy heart," says Guy,

"Good fellow, thy shooting is good;

For an thy heart be as good as thy hand

Thou were better then Robin Hood.

"Tell me thy name, good fellow," quoth Guy,

"Under the leaves of line;"

"Nay, by my faith," quoth good Robin,

"Till thou have told me thine."

"I dwell by dale and down," quoth Guy,

"And I have done many a cursed turn;

And he that calls me by my right name,

Calls me Guy of good Gisborne."

"My dwelling is in the wood," says Robin,

"By thee I set right nought:

I am Robin Hood of Barnésdale,

A fellow thou has long sought."

He that had neither been a kith nor kin

Might have seen a full fair fight,

To see how together these yeomen went

With blades both brown and bright:

To have seen how these yeomen together fought

Two hours of a summers day,

It was neither Guy nor Robin Hood

That fettled them to fly away.

Robin was reachless on a root,

And stumbled at that tide;

And Guy was quick and nimble withal,

And hit him o'er the left side.

"Ah, dear Lady," said Robin Hood,

"Thou art both mother and may;

I think it was never man's destiny

To die before his day."

Robin thought on our lady dear,

And soon leapt up again,

And thus he came with an awkward stroke,

Good Sir Guy he hath slain.

He took Sir Guy's head by the hair,

And sticked it on his bow's end:

"Thou hast been traitor all thy life,

Which thing must have an end."

Robin pulled forth an Irish knife,

And nicked Sir Guy in the face,

That he was never on woman born

Could tell who Sir Guy was.

(_reachless_, reckless.)

Says, "Lie there, lie there, good Sir Guy,

And with me be not wroth;

If thou have had the worse strokes at my hand,

Thou shalt have the better cloth."

Robin did off his gown of green,

[On] Sir Guy he did it throw,

And he put on that capull hide,

That clad him top to toe.

"The bow, the arrows, and little horn,

And with me now I'll bear;

For I will go to Barnesdale,

To see how my men do fare."

Robin Hood set Guy's horn to his mouth,

And a loud blast in it he did blow:

That beheard the sheriff of Nottingham,

As he leaned under a lowe.

"Hearken, hearken," said the sheriff,

"I heard no tidings but good,

For yonder I hear Sir Guy's horn blow,

For he hath slain Robin Hood.

"For yonder I hear Sir Guys horn blow,

It blows so well in tide,

For yonder comes that wight yeoman,

Clad in his capull hide.

(_lowef_, small hill.)

"Come hither, thou good Sir Guy,

Ask of me what thou wilt:"

"I'll have none of thy gold," says Robin Hood,

"Nor I'll none of it have.

"But now I have slain the master," he said,

"Let me go strike the knave;

This is all the reward I ask,

Nor no other will I have."

"Thou art a madman," said the sheriff,

"Thou shouldest have had a knight's fee;

Seeing thy asking hath been so bad,

Well granted it shall be."

But Little John heard his master speak,

Well he knew that was his steven;

"Now shall I be loosed," quoth Little John,

"With Christ's might in heaven."

But Robin he hied him towards Little John,

He thought he would loose him belive:

The sheriff and all his company

Fast after him did drive.

"Stand aback, stand aback," said Robin,

"Why draw you me so near?

It was never the use in our country,

Ones shrift another should hear."

(_steven_, voice. _belive_, quickly.)

But Robin pulled forth an Irish knife,

And loosed John hand and foot,

And gave him Sir Guy's bow in his hand,

And bade it be his boot.

But John took Guy's bow in his hand,

His arrows were rusty by the root:

The sheriff saw Little John draw a bow,

And fettle him to shoot.

Towards his house in Nottingham

He fled full fast away,

And so did all his company,

Not one behind did stay.

But he could neither so fast go,

Nor away so fast run,

But Little John with an arrow broad

Did cleave his heart in twin.

OLD ROBIN OF PORTINGALE

|God let never so old a man

Marry so young a wife,

As did old Robin of Portingale;

He may rue all the days of his life.

(_fettle_, make ready.)

For the mayor's daughter of Lynn, God wot,

He chose her to his wife,

And thought to have lived in quietness,

With her all the days of his life.