Chapter IV: Part THE THIRD

As they sat in the merry green wood,
Under the green-wood tree,
They thought they heard a woman weep,
But her they mought[59] not see.

Sore then sighed the fair Alice:
That ever I saw this day!
For now is my dear husband slain:
Alas! and well-a-way!

Might I have spoken to his dear brethren,
Or with either of them twain,
To show to them what him befell,
My heart were out of pain.

Cloudesly walked a little beside,
He looked under the green-wood lynde;
He was aware of his wife, and children three,
Full woe in heart and mind.

Welcome, wife, then said William,
Under this trusty tree:
I had ween'd yesterday, by sweet saint John,
Thou shouldst me never have see.

Now well is me that ye be here,
My heart is out of woe;
Dame, he said, be merry and glad,
And thank my brethren two.

Hereof to speak, said Adam Bell,
I think it is no boot:
The meat, that we must sup withal,
It runneth yet fast on foot.

Then went they down into a lawn,
These noble archers all three;
Each of them slew a hart of grease,[60]
The best that they could see.

Have here the best, Alice my wife,
Said William of Cloudesly;
Because ye so boldly stood by me
When I was slain full nigh.

Then went they all into supper
With such meat as they had;
And thanked God of their fortune:
They were both merry and glad.

And when they all had supped well,
Certainly without lease,[61]
Cloudesly said, We will to our king,
To get us a charter of peace.

Alice shall be at our 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 you 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 king's palace,
Where they would needs be.

And when they came to the king's court,
Unto the palace gate,
Of no man would they ask no leave,
But boldly went in thereat.

They pressed prestly[62] into the hall,
Of no man had they dread:
The porter came after, and did them call,
And with them began to chide.

The usher said, Yeoman, what would ye have?
I pray you tell to me:
You might thus make officers shent:[63]
Good sirs, of whence be ye?

Sir, we be outlaws of the forest
Certainly without 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 hindrance,
And each held up his hand.

They said, Lord, we beseech thee here,
That you will grant us grace;
For we have slain your fat fallow deer
In many a sundry place.

What be your names, then said our king,
Anon that you tell me?
They said, Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough,
And William of Cloudesly.

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.

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 Bell,
This game liketh not me.

But, good lord, we beseech you now,
That ye grant us grace,
Insomuch as freely to you we come,
As freely we may from you pass,

With such weapons as we have here,
Till we be out of your place;
And if we live this hundred 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 belyfe:[64]

And I never asked none till now;
Therefore, good lord, grant it me.
Now ask it, madam, said the king,
And granted it shall be.

Then, good my lord, I you beseech,
These yeomen grant ye me.
Madame, 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 my liking, she said;
Nor none so lefe[65] to me.

Madame, since it is your desire,
Your asking granted shall be;
But I had lever[66] have given you
Good market towns three.

The queen she was a glad woman,
And said, Lord, gramercy:
I dare undertake for them,
That true men shall they be.

But, good my 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 lesynge,[67]
There came messengers out of the north
With letters to our king.

And when they came before the king,
They knelt down on their knee:
And said, Lord, your officers greet you well,
Of Carlisle, in the north country.

How fareth my justice, said the king,
And my sheriff also?
Sir, they be slain, without lesynge,
And many an officer mo'.

Who hath them slain, said the king;
Anon thou tell to me?
Adam Bell, and Clym of the Clough,
And William of Cloudesly.

Alas for ruth! then said our king:
My heart is wondrous sore;
I had rather 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.

The king he opened the letter anon,
Himself he read it thro',
And found how these outlaws had slain
Three hundred men and mo':

First the justice, and the sheriff,
And the mayor of Carlisle town;
Of all the constables and catchpolls
Alive were scarce left one:

The baillies, and the beadles both,
And the sergeants of the law,
And forty foresters of the fee,[68]
These outlaws had yslaw.[69]

And broke his parks, and slain his deer;
Of all they chose the best;
Such 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 tables anon he said,
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.

The king's bowmen buske[70] them blyve,[71]
And the queen's archers also;
So did these three wighty yeomen;
With them they thought to go.

There twice or thrice they shot about
For to assay their hand;
There was no shot these yeomen shot,
That any prick might stand.

Then spake William of Cloudesly;
By Him that for me died,
I hold him never no good archer,
That shooteth at butts so wide.

At what a butt now would you shoot,
I pray thee tell to me?
At such a butt, sir, he said,
As men use in my country.

William went into a field,
And with him his two brethren:
There they set up two hazel rods
Twenty score paces between.

I hold him an archer, said Cloudesly,
That yonder wand cleaveth in two.
Here is none such, said the king,
Nor none that can so do.

I shall assay, sir, said Cloudesly,
Or that I farther go.
Cloudesly with a bearyng[72] arrow
Clave the wand in two.

Thou art the best archer, then said the king,
For sooth that ever I see.
And yet for your love, said William,
I will do more mastery.

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 pace 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.

An 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.

That I have promised, said William,
That I will never forsake.
And there even before the king
In the earth he drove a stake:

And bound thereto his eldest son,
And bade him stand still thereat;
And turned the child's face him from,
Because he should not start.

An apple upon his head he set,
And then his bow he bent:
Six score paces they were meaten,[73]
And thither Cloudesly 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 were there,
That they all still would stand,
For he that shooteth for such a wager,
Behoveth a stedfast hand.

Much people prayed for Cloudesly,
That his life saved might be,
And when he made him ready to shoot,
There was many a weeping ee.

But Cloudesly cleft the apple in two,
His son he did not nee.[74]
Over Gods forebode,[75] said the king,
That thou should shoot at me.

I give thee eighteen pence a day,
And my bow shalt thou bear,
And over all the north country
I make thee chief ranger.

And I thirteen pence a day, said the queen,
By God, and by my fa';
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 he shall be;
And when he cometh to man's estate,
Better advanced shall he be.

And, William, bring to me your wife, said the queen,
Me longeth her sore to see:
She shall be my chief gentlewoman,
To govern my nursery.

The yeomen thanked them courteously.
To some bishop will we wend,
Of all the sins that we have done,
To be assoyld[76] at his hand.

So forth be gone these good yeomen,
As fast as they might he;[77]
And after came and dwelled with the king,
And died good men all three.

Thus ended the lives of these good yeomen;
God send them eternal bliss.
And all, that with a hand-bow shooteth,
That of heaven they never miss. Amen.

FOOTNOTES:

[35] Clem (Clement) of the cliff.

[36] Called.

[37] Mate.

[38] Pass.

[39] Noon.

[40] Glad.

[41] Red.

[42] Wild.

[43] Pressed.

[44] Condemned.

[45] Hang.

[46] Sorrow.

[47] Redeem.

[48] Part of a song.

[49] Hastened.

[50] Sluggard.

[51] Mad.

[52] Time.

[53] Noon.

[54] Summons to arms.

[55] Fight.

[56] Hindereth.

[57] Lime-tree.

[58] Company.

[59] Might for could.

[60] Fat hart.

[61] Lies.

[62] Quickly.

[63] Disgraced.

[64] Immediately.

[65] Dear.

[66] Rather.

[67] Lies.

[68] The King's foresters.

[69] Slain.

[70] Dress.

[71] Instantly.

[72] An arrow that flies well.

[73] Measured.

[74] Nigh.

[75] God forbid.

[76] Absolved.

[77] Hie.

SIR LANCELOT DU LAKE.

When Arthur first in court began,
And was approved king,
By force of arms great victories won,
And conquest home did bring.

Then into England straight he came
With fifty good and able
Knights, that resorted unto him,
And were of his round table:

And he had jousts and tournaments,
Whereto were many prest,
Wherein some knights did far excell
And far surmount the rest.

But one, Sir Lancelot du Lake,
Who was approved well,
He for his deeds and feats of arms,
All others did excell.

When he had rested him a while,
In play, and game, and sport,
He said he would go prove himself
In some adventurous sort.

He armed rode in forest wide,
And met a damsel fair,
Who told him of adventures great,
Whereto he gave good ear.

Such would I find, quoth Lancelot:
For that cause came I hither.
Thou seem'st, quoth she, a knight full good,
And I will bring thee thither,

Whereas a mighty knight doth dwell,
That now is of great fame:
Therefore tell me what wight thou art,
And what may be thy name.

My name is Lancelot du Lake.
Quoth she, it likes me then:
Here dwells a knight who never was
Yet matcht with any man:

Who has in prison threescore knights
And four, that he did wound;
Knights of king Arthur's court they be,
And of his table round.

She brought him to a river side,
And also to a tree,
Whereon a copper bason hung,
And many shields to see.

He struck so hard, the bason broke;
And Tarquin soon he spied:
Who drove a horse before him fast,
Whereon a knight lay tied.

Sir knight, then said Sir Lancelot,
Bring me that horse-load hither,
And lay him down, and let him rest;
We'll try our force together:

For, as I understand, thou hast,
So far as thou art able,
Done great despite and shame unto
The knights of the Round Table.

If thou be of the Table Round,
Quoth Tarquin speedily,
Both thee and all thy fellowship
I utterly defy.

That's over much, quoth Lancelot, though,
Defend thee by and by.
They set their spears unto their steeds,
And each at other fly.

They couched their spears, (their horses ran,
As though there had been thunder)
And struck them each immidst their shields,
Wherewith they broke in sunder.

Their horses' backs brake under them,
The knights were both astound:
To avoid their horses they make haste
And light upon the ground.

They took them to their shields full fast,
Their swords they drew out then,
With mighty strokes most eagerly
Each at the other ran.

They wounded were, and bled full sore,
For both for breath did stand,
And leaning on their swords awhile,
Quoth Tarquin, Hold thy hand,

And tell to me what I shall ask.
Say on, quoth Lancelot tho.[78]
Thou art, quoth Tarquin, the best knight
That ever I did know;

And like a knight, that I did hate:
So that thou be not he,
I will deliver all the rest,
And eke accord with thee.

That is well said, quoth Lancelot;
But since it must be so,
What knight is that thou hatest thus?
I pray thee to me show.

His name is Lancelot du Lake,
He slew my brother dear;
Him I suspect of all the rest:
I would I had him here.

Thy wish thou hast, but yet unknown,
I am Lancelot du Lake,
Now knight of Arthur's Table Round;
King Haud's son, of Schuwake;

And I desire thee do thy worst.
Ho, ho, quoth Tarquin tho,
One of us two shall end our lives
Before that we do go.

If thou be Lancelot du Lake,
Then welcome shalt thou be;
Wherefore see thou thyself defend,
For now defy I thee.

They buckled then together so,
Like unto wild boars rashing,
And with their swords and shields they ran
At one another slashing:

The ground besprinkled was with blood:
Tarquin began to yield;
For he gave back for weariness,
And low did bear his shield.

This soon Sir Lancelot espied,
He leapt upon him then,
He pull'd him down upon his knee,
And rushing[79] off his helm,

Forthwith he struck his neck in two,
And, when he had so done,
From prison threescore knights and four
Delivered every one.

FOOTNOTES:

[78] Then.

[79] Tearing.

THE FROLICKSOME DUKE; OR, THE TINKER'S GOOD FORTUNE.

Now as fame does report, a young duke keeps a court,
One that pleases his fancy with frolicksome sport:
But amongst all the rest, here is one I protest,
Which will make you to smile when you hear the true jest:
A poor tinker he found, lying drunk on the ground,
As secure in a sleep as if laid in a swound.

The duke said to his men, William, Richard, and Ben,
Take him home to my palace, we'll sport with him then.
O'er a horse he was laid, and with care soon convey'd
To the palace, altho' he was poorly array'd:
Then they stript off his clothes, both his shirt, shoes, and hose,
And they put him to bed for to take his repose.

Having pull'd off his shirt, which was all over dirt,
They did give him clean holland, this was no great hurt:
On a bed of soft down, like a lord of renown,
They did lay him to sleep the drink out of his crown.
In the morning when day, then admiring he lay,
For to see the rich chamber both gaudy and gay.

Now he lay something late, in his rich bed of state,
Till at last knights and squires, they on him did wait;
And the chamberlain bare,[80] then did likewise declare,
He desir'd to know what apparel he'd wear:
The poor tinker amaz'd, on the gentleman gaz'd,
And admired[81] how he to this honour was rais'd.

Tho' he seem'd something mute, yet he chose a rich suit,
Which he straitways put on without longer dispute;
With a star on his side, which the tinker oft ey'd,
And it seem'd for to swell him no little with pride;
For he said to himself, Where is Joan my sweet wife?
Sure she never did see me so fine in her life.

From a convenient place, the right duke his good grace
Did observe his behaviour in every case.
To a garden of state, on the tinker they wait,
Trumpet sounding before him: thought he, this is great:
Where an hour or two, pleasant walks he did view,
With commanders and squires in scarlet and blue.

A fine dinner was drest, both for him and his guests,
He was plac'd at the table above all the rest,
In a rich chair or bed, lin'd with fine crimson red,
With a rich golden canopy over his head:
As he sat at his meat, the music play'd sweet,
With the choicest of singing his joys to complete.

While the tinker did dine, he had plenty of wine,
Rich canary with sherry and tent superfine.
Like a right honest soul, faith, he took off his bowl,
Till at last he began for to tumble and roll
From his chair to the floor, where he sleeping did snore,
Being seven times drunker than ever before.

Then the duke did ordain, they should strip him amain,
And restore him his old leather garments again:
Twas a point next the worst, yet perform it they must,
And they carried him strait, where they found him at first;
Then he slept all the night, as indeed well he might;
But when he did waken, his joys took their flight.

For his glory to him so pleasant did seem,
That he thought it to be but a mere golden dream;
Till at length he was brought to the duke, where he sought
For a pardon, as fearing he had set him at nought;
But his highness he said, Thou'rt a jolly bold blade,
Such a frolic before I think never was play'd.

Then his highness bespoke him a new suit and cloak,
Which he gave for the sake of this frolicksome joke;
Nay, and five hundred pound, with ten acres of ground,
Thou shalt never, said he, range the countries around,
Crying "old brass to mend," for I'll be thy good friend,
Nay, and Joan thy sweet wife shall my duchess attend.

Then the tinker reply'd, What! must Joan my sweet bride
Be a lady in chariots of pleasure to ride?
Must we have gold and land ev'ry day at command?
Then I shall be a squire I well understand:
Well I thank your good grace, and your love I embrace,
I was never before in so happy a case.

FOOTNOTES:

[80] Bare-headed.

[81] Wondered.

THE MORE MODERN BALLAD OF CHEVY CHASE.

God prosper long our noble king,
Our lives and safeties all;
A woful hunting once there did
In Chevy Chase befall;

To drive the deer with hound and horn,
Earl Percy took his way;
The child may rue that is unborn
The hunting of that day.

The stout Earl of Northumberland
A vow to God did make,
His pleasure in the Scottish woods
Three summer days to take;

The chiefest harts in Chevy Chase
To kill and bear away.
These tidings to Earl Douglas came,
In Scotland where he lay:

Who sent Earl Percy present word,
He would prevent his sport.
The English earl, not fearing that,
Did to the woods resort

With fifteen hundred bow-men bold;
All chosen men of might,
Who knew full well in time of need
To aim their shafts aright.

The gallant greyhounds swiftly ran,
To chase the fallow deer:
On Monday they began to hunt,
Ere day-light did appear;

And long before high noon they had
An hundred fat bucks slain;
Then having din'd, the drovers went
To rouse the deer again.

The bow-men mustered on the hills,
Well able to endure;
Their backsides all, with special care,
That day were guarded sure.

The hounds ran swiftly through the woods,
The nimble deer to take,
That with their cries the hills and dales
An echo shrill did make.

Lord Percy to the quarry went,
To view the slaughter'd deer;
Quoth he, Earl Douglas promised
This day to meet me here:

But if I thought he would not come,
No longer would I stay.
With that, a brave young gentleman
Thus to the earl did say:

Lo, yonder doth Earl Douglas come,
His men in armour bright;
Full twenty hundred Scottish spears
All marching in our sight;

All men of pleasant Teviotdale,
Fast by the river Tweed:
O cease your sport, Earl Percy said,
And take your bows with speed:

And now with me, my countrymen,
Your courage forth advance;
For never was there champion yet
In Scotland or in France,

That ever did on horseback come,
But if my hap it were,
I durst encounter man for man,
With him to break a spear.

Earl Douglas on his milk-white steed,
Most like a baron bold,
Rode foremost of his company,
Whose armour shone like gold.

Show me, said he, whose men you be,
That hunt so boldly here,
That, without my consent, do chase
And kill my fallow-deer?

The man that first did answer make,
Was noble Percy he;
Who said, We list not to declare,
Nor show whose men we be:

Yet will we spend our dearest blood,
Thy chiefest harts to slay.
Then Douglas swore a solemn oath,
And thus in rage did say,

Ere thus will I out-braved be,
One of us two shall die:
I know thee well, an earl thou art,
Lord Percy; so am I.

But trust me, Percy, pity 'twere,
And great offence to kill
Any of these our guiltless men,
For they have done no ill.

Let thou and I the battle try,
And set our men aside.
Accurst be he, Earl Percy said,
By whom this is denied.

Then stept a gallant squire forth,
Witherington was his name,
Who said, I would not have it told
To Henry our king for shame,

That e'er my captain fought on foot,
And I stood looking on.
You be two earls, said Witherington,
And I a squire alone:

I'll do the best that do I may,
While I have power to stand:
While I have power to wield my sword,
I'll fight with heart and hand.

Our English archers bent their bows,
Their hearts were good and true;
At the first flight of arrows sent,
Full four-score Scots they slew.

Yet bides Earl Douglas on the bent[82]
As Chieftain stout and good,
As valiant Captain, all unmov'd
The shock he firmly stood.

His host he parted had in three,
As leader ware and try'd,
And soon his spearmen on their foes
Bore down on every side.

Throughout the English archery
They dealt full many a wound:
But still our valiant Englishmen
All firmly kept their ground:

And throwing straight their bows away,
They grasp'd their swords so bright:
And now sharp blows, a heavy shower,
On shields and helmets light.

They clos'd full fast on every side,
No slackness there was found;
And many a gallant gentleman
Lay gasping on the ground.

O Christ! it was a grief to see,
And likewise for to hear,
The cries of men lying in their gore,
And scattered here and there.

At last these two stout earls did meet,
Like captains of great might:
Like lions wood,[83] they laid on loud,
And made a cruel fight:

They fought until they both did sweat,
With swords of tempered steel;
Until the blood, like drops of rain,
They trickling down did feel.

Yield thee, Lord Percy, Douglas said;
In faith I will thee bring,
Where thou shalt high advanced be
By James our Scottish king:

Thy ransom I will freely give,
And thus report of thee,
Thou art the most courageous knight,
That ever I did see.

No, Douglas, quoth Earl Percy then,
Thy proffer I do scorn;
I will not yield to any Scot,
That ever yet was born.

With that, there came an arrow keen
Out of an English bow,
Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart,
A deep and deadly blow:

Who never spake more words than these,
Fight on, my merry men all;
For why, my life is at an end;
Lord Percy sees my fall.

Then leaving life, Earl Percy took
The dead man by the hand;
And said, Earl Douglas, for thy life
Would I had lost my land.

O Christ! my very heart doth bleed
With sorrow for thy sake;
For sure, a more renowned knight
Mischance could never take.

A knight amongst the Scots there was,
Which saw Earl Douglas die,
Who straight in wrath did vow revenge
Upon the Lord Percy:

Sir Hugh Montgomery was he call'd
Who, with a spear most bright,
Well-mounted on a gallant steed,
Ran fiercely through the fight;

And past the English archers all,
Without all dread or fear;
And through Earl Percy's body then
He thrust his hateful spear;

With such a vehement force and might
He did his body gore,
The staff went through the other side
A large cloth-yard, and more.

So thus did both these nobles die,
Whose courage none could stain;
An English archer then perceiv'd
The noble earl was slain;

He had a bow bent in his hand,
Made of a trusty tree;
An arrow of a cloth-yard long
Up to the head drew he:

Against Sir Hugh Montgomery,
So right the shaft he set,
The grey goose-wing that was thereon
In his heart's blood was wet.

This fight did last from break of day
Till setting of the sun;
For when they rung the evening bell,[84]
The battle scarce was done.

With brave Earl Percy, there was slain
Sir John of Egerton,
Sir Robert Ratcliff, and Sir John,
Sir James that bold Baron:

And with Sir George and stout Sir James,
Both knights of good account,
Good Sir Ralph Raby there was slain,
Whose prowess did surmount.

For Witherington needs must I wail,
As one in doleful dumps;
For when his legs were smitten off,
He fought upon his stumps.

And with Earl Douglas, there was slain
Sir Hugh Montgomery,
Sir Charles Murray, that from the field
One foot would never flee.

Sir Charles Murray, of Ratcliff, too,
His sister's son was he;
Sir David Lamb, so well esteem'd,
Yet saved could not be.

And the Lord Maxwell in like case
Did with Earl Douglas die:
Of twenty hundred Scottish spears,
Scarce fifty-five did fly.

Of fifteen hundred Englishmen,
Went home but fifty-three;
The rest were slain in Chevy Chase,
Under the greenwood tree.

Next day did many widows come,
Their husbands to bewail;
They washed their wounds in brinish tears,
But all would not prevail.

Their bodies, bathed in purple gore,
They bare with them away:
They kiss'd them dead a thousand times,
Ere they were clad in clay.

This news was brought to Edinburgh,
Where Scotland's king did reign,
That brave Earl Douglas suddenly
Was with an arrow slain:

O heavy news, King James did say,
Scotland can witness be,
I have not any captain more
Of such account as he.

Like tidings to King Henry came,
Within as short a space,
That Percy of Northumberland
Was slain in Chevy Chase:

Now God be with him, said our king,
Since it will no better be;
I trust I have, within my realm,
Five hundred as good as he:

Yet shall not Scots nor Scotland say,
But I will vengeance take:
I'll be revenged on them all,
For brave Earl Percy's sake.

This vow full well the king perform'd
After, at Humbledown;
In one day, fifty knights were slain,
With lords of great renown:

And of the rest, of small account,
Did many thousands die:
Thus endeth the hunting of Chevy Chase,
Made by the Earl Percy.

God save our king, and bless this land
In plenty, joy, and peace;
And grant henceforth, that foul debate
'Twixt noblemen may cease.

FOOTNOTES:

[82] Field.

[83] Wild.

[84] The curfew.

KING EDWARD THE FOURTH AND THE TANNER OF TAMWORTH.

In summer time, when leaves grow green,
And blossoms bedeck the tree,
King Edward would a hunting ride,
Some pastime for to see.

With hawk and hound he made him bowne,[85]
With horn, and eke with bow;
To Drayton Basset he took his way,
With all his lords in a row.

And he had ridden o'er dale and down
By eight of clock in the day,
When he was 'ware of a bold tanner,
Come riding along the way.

A fair russet coat the tanner had on
Fast buttoned under his chin,
And under him a good cow-hide,
And a mare of four shilling.[86]

Now stand you still, my good lords all,
Under the greenwood spray;
And I will wend to yonder fellow,
To weet[87] what he will say.

God speed, God speed thee, said our king.
Thou art welcome, sir, said he.
The readiest way to Drayton Basset
I pray thee to show to me.

To Drayton Basset wouldst thou go,
Fro' the place where thou dost stand?
The next pair of gallows thou comest unto,
Turn in upon thy right hand.

That is an unready way, said our king,
Thou dost but jest I see;
Now show me out the nearest way,
And I pray thee wend with me.

Away with a vengeance! quoth the tanner:
I hold thee out of thy wit:
All day have I ridden on Brock my mare,
And I am fasting yet.

Go with me down to Drayton Basset,
No dainties we will spare;
All day shalt thou eat and drink of the best,
And I will pay thy fare.

Gramercy for nothing, the tanner replied,
Thou payest no fare of mine:
I trow I've more nobles in my purse,
Than thou hast pence in thine.

God give thee joy of them, said the king,
And send them well to priefe.[88]
The tanner would fain have been away,
For he weened he had been a thief.

Who art thou, he said, thou fine fellow,
Of thee I am in great fear,
For the clothes thou wearest upon thy back,
Might beseem a lord to wear.

I never stole them, quoth our king,
I tell you, sir, by the rood,
Then thou playest, as many an unthrift doth
And standest in midst of thy good.[89]

What tidings hear you, said the king,
As you ride far and near?
I hear no tidings, sir, by the mass,
But that cow-hides are dear.

Cow-hides! cow-hides! what things are those?
I marvel what they be!
What art thou a fool? the tanner replied;
I carry one under me.

What craftsman art thou? said the king,
I pray thee tell me true.
I am a barker,[90] sir, by my trade;
Now tell me what art thou?

I am a poor courtier, sir, quoth he,
That am forth of service worn;
And fain I would thy prentice be,
Thy cunning for to learn.

Marry heaven forfend, the tanner replied,
That thou my prentice were:
Thou wouldst spend more good than I should win
By forty shilling a year.

Yet one thing would I, said our king,
If thou wilt not seem strange:
Though my horse be better than thy mare,
Yet with thee I fain would change.

Why if with me thou fain wilt change,
As change full well may we,
By the faith of my body, thou proud fellow,
I will have some boot of thee.

That were against reason, said the king,
I swear, so mote I thee:[91]
My horse is better than thy mare,
And that thou well mayst see.

Yea, sir, but Brock is gentle and mild,
And softly she will fare:
Thy horse is unruly and wild, I wiss;
Aye skipping here and there.

What boot wilt thou have? our king replied,
Now tell me in this stound.
No pence, nor half-pence, by my faith,
But a noble in gold so round.

Here's twenty groats of white money,
Sith thou will have it of me.
I would have sworn now, quoth the tanner,
Thou hadst not had one penny.

But since we two have made a change,
A change we must abide,
Although thou hast gotten Brock my mare,
Thou gettest not my cow-hide.

I will not have it, said the king,
I swear, so mote I thee;
Thy foul cow-hide I would not bear,
If thou wouldst give it to me.

The tanner he took his good cow-hide,
That of the cow was hilt;[92]
And threw it upon the king's saddle,
That was so fairly gilt.

Now help me up, thou fine fellow,
'Tis time that I were gone;
When I come home to Gyllian my wife,
She'll say I am a gentleman.

When the tanner he was in the king's saddle,
And his foot in the stirrup was;
He marvelled greatly in his mind,
Whether it were gold or brass.

But when his steed saw the cow's tail wag,
And eke the black cow-horn;
He stamped, and stared, and away he ran,
As the devil had him borne.

The tanner he pulled, the tanner he sweat,
And held by the pummel fast,
At length the tanner came tumbling down;
His neck he had well-nigh brast.[93]

Take thy horse again with a vengeance, he said,
With me he shall not bide.
My horse would have borne thee well enough,
But he knew not of thy cow-hide.

Yet if again thou fain wouldst change,
As change full well may we,
By the faith of my body, thou jolly tanner,
I will have some boot of thee.

What boot wilt thou have, the tanner replied,
Now tell me in this stound?[94]
No pence, nor half-pence, sir, by my faith,
But I will have twenty pound.

Here's twenty groats out of my purse;
And twenty I have of thine:
And I have one more, which we will spend
Together at the wine.

The king set a bugle horn to his mouth,
And blew both loud and shrill:
And soon came lords, and soon came knights,
Fast riding over the hill.

Now, out alas! the tanner he cried,
That ever I saw this day!
Thou art a strong thief, yon come thy fellows
Will bear my cow-hide away.

They are no thieves, the king replied,
I swear, so mote I thee:
But they are the lords of the north country,
Here come to hunt with me.

And soon before our king they came,
And knelt down on the ground:
Then might the tanner have been away,
He had lever[95] than twenty pound.

A collar, a collar, here: said the king,
A collar he loud 'gan cry:
Then would he lever than twenty pound,
He had not been so nigh.

A collar, a collar, the tanner he said,
I trow it will breed sorrow:
After a collar cometh a halter,
I trow I shall be hang'd to-morrow.

Be not afraid, tanner, said our king;
I tell thee, so mote I thee,
Lo here I make thee the best esquire
That is in the north country.

For Plumpton-park I will give thee,
With tenements fair beside:
'Tis worth three hundred marks by the year,
To maintain thy good cow-hide.

Gramercy, my liege, the tanner replied,
For the favour thou hast me shown:
If ever thou comest to merry Tamworth,
Neat's[96] leather shall clout thy shoen.[97]

FOOTNOTES:

[85] Ready.

[86] A shilling was a large sum in those days.

[87] Know.

[88] Prove.

[89] _i.e._ Hast no other wealth but what thou carriest about thee.

[90] A dealer in bark.

[91] May I thrive.

[92] Flayed.

[93] Broken.

[94] Time.

[95] Rather.

[96] Cow's.

[97] Mend thy shoes.

THE HEIR OF LINNE.