Part the First


Mery it was in the grene forest
Amonge the leves grene,
Wheras men hunt east and west,
Wyth bowes and arrowes kene,

To ryse the dere out of theyr denne,
Suche sightes hath ofte bene sene,
As by thre yemen of the north countrey,
By them it is I meane.

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

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

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

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

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

'For if ye go to Carleile, brother,
And from thys wylde wode wende,
If the justice may you take,
Your lyfe were at an ende.'

'If that I come not to-morrowe, brother,
By pryme to you agayne,
Truste you then that I am 'taken,'
Or else that I am slayne.'

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

'Wher be you, fayre Alyce,' he sayd,
'My wife and chyldren thre?
Lyghtly let in thyne owne husbande,
Wyllyam of Cloudesle.'

'Alas!' then sayde fayre Alyce,
And syghed wonderous sore,
'Thys place hath been besette for you, 
Thys halfe yere and more.'

'Now am I here,' sayde Cloudesle,
'I would that in I were:
Now fetche us meate and drynke ynoughe,
And lets make good chere.'

She fetched hym meate and drynke plentye,
Lyke a true wedded wyfe,
And pleased hym wyth that she had,
Whome she loved as her lyfe.

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

Up she rose and forth she goes,
Evill mote she speede therfore,
For she had sett no fote on ground
In seven yere before.

She went unto the justice-hall,
As fast as she could hye:
'Thys night,' shee sayd, 'is come to town
Wyllyam of Cloudesle.'

Thereof the justice was full fayne,
And so was the shirife also;
'Thou shalt not trauaile hether, dame, for nought,
Thy meed thou shalt have ore thou go.'

They gave to her a ryght good goune
Of scarlate, 'and of graine:'
She toke the gyft and home she wente,
And couched her doune agayne.

They rysed the towne of mery Carleile
In all the haste they can,
And came thronging to Wyllyames house,
As fast as they might gone.

There they besette that good yeman,
Round about on every syde,
Wyllyam hearde great noyse of folkes,
That thither-ward fast hyed.

Alyce opened a back-wyndow, 
And loked all aboute,
She was ware of the justice and shirife bothe,
Wyth a full great route.

'Alas! treason,' cryed Alyce,
'Ever wo may thou be!
Goe into my chamber, husband,' she sayd,
'Swete Wyllyam of Cloudesle.'

He toke hys sweard and hys bucler,
Hys bow and hys chyldren thre,
And wente into hys strongest chamber,
Where he thought the surest to be.

Fayre Alyce, like a lover true,
Took a pollaxe in her hande:
Said, 'He shal dye that cometh in
Thys dore, whyle I may stand.'

Cloudesle bente a right good bowe,
That was of a trusty tre,
He smot the justise on the brest,
That hys arowe brest in thre.

''A' curse on his harte,' saide William,
'Thys day thy cote dyd on;
If it had ben no better then meyne,
It had gone nere thy bone.'

'Yelde the, Cloudesle,' sayd the justise,
'And thy bowe and thy arrowes the fro.'
''A' curse on hys hart,' sayd fair Alyce,
'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,
'Hys wyfe and chyldren thre.'

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

William openyd a backe wyndow,
That was in hys chamber hye,
And there with sheetes he did let downe
His wyfe and chyldren thre.

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

Wyllyam shot so wondrous well,
Tyll hys arrowes were all agoe,
And the fyre so fast upon hym fell,
That hys bowstryng brent in two.

The sparkles brent and fell upon
Good Wyllyam of Cloudesle;
Than was he a wofull man, and sayde,
'This is a cowardes death to me.

'Lever had I,' sayde Wyllyam,
'With my sword