Читать книгу Reliques of Ancient English Poetry (Vol. 1-3) - Various Authors - Страница 52

PART THE THIRD.

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As they sat in Englyshe wood,

Under the green-wode tre,

They thought they herd a woman wepe,

But her they mought744 not se.

Sore then syghed the fayre Alyce:5

'That ever I sawe thys day!'

For nowe is my dere husband slayne:

Alas! and wel-a-way!

Myght I have spoken wyth hys dere brethren,

Or with eyther of them twayne,10

To show them what him befell,

My hart were out of payne.

Cloudeslè walked a lytle beside,

He looked under the grene wood lynde,

He was ware of his wife, and chyldren three,15

Full wo in harte and mynde.

Welcome, wyfe, then sayde Wyllyam,

Under 'this' trusti tre:

I had wende745 yesterday, by swete saynt John, Thou sholdest me never 'have' se.74620

"Now well is me that ye be here,

My harte is out of wo."

Dame, he sayde, be mery and glad,

And thanke my brethren two.

Herof to speake, said Adam Bell,25

I-wis it is no bote:

The meate, that we must supp withall,

It runneth yet fast on fote.

Then went they downe into a launde,747 These noble archares all thre;30 Eche of them slew a hart of greece,748 The best that they cold se.

Have here the best, Alyce, my wyfe,

Sayde Wyllyam of Cloudeslye;

By cause ye so bouldly stode by me35

When I was slayne full nye.

Then went they to suppère

Wyth suche meate as they had;

And thanked God of ther fortune:

They were both mery and glad.40

And when they had supped well,

Certayne withouten lease,749 Cloudeslè sayd, We wyll to our kyng, To get us a charter of peace.

Alyce shal be at our sojournyng45

In a nunnery here besyde;

My tow sonnes shall wyth her go,

And there they shall abyde.

Myne eldest son shall go wyth me;

For hym have 'you' no care:75050 And he shall bring you worde agayn, How that we do fare.

Thus be these yemen to London gone,

As fast as they myght 'he,'751 Tyll they came to the kynges pallàce,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 prestly752 into the hall, Of no man had they dreade: The porter came after, and dyd them call, And with them began to chyde.

The usher sayde, Yemen, what wold ye have?65

I pray you tell to me:

You myght thus make offycers shent:753 Good syrs, of whence be ye?

Syr, we be out-lawes of the forest

Certayne withouten lease;70

And hether we be come to the kyng,

To get us a charter of peace.

And whan they came before the kyng,

As it was the lawe of the lande,

The kneled downe without lettyng,75

And eche held up his hand.

The sayed, Lord, we beseche the here,

That ye wyll graunt us grace;

For we have slayne your fat falow dere

In many a sondry place.80

What be your nams, then said our king,

Anone that you tell me?

They sayd, Adam Bell, 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 an avowe,

Ye shal be hanged al thre.

Ye shal be dead without mercy,

As I am kynge of this lande.90

He commanded his officers everich-one,

Fast on them to lay hande.

There they toke these good yemen,

And arested them al thre:

So may I thryve, sayd Adam Bell,95

Thys game lyketh not me.

But, good lorde, we beseche you now,

That yee graunt us grace,

Insomuche as 'frely' we be to you come,

'As frely' 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 boone that I wold aske,754 Ye would graunt it me belyfe:755

And I asked you never none tyll now;

Therefore good lorde, graunt it me,

Now aske it, madam, sayd the kynge,115

And graunted it shal be.

Then, good my lord, I you beseche,

These yemen graunt ye me.

Madame, ye myght have asked a boone,

That shuld have been worth them all thre.120

Ye myght have asked towres, and townes,

Parkes and forestes plentè.

None soe pleasant to my pay,756 shee sayd; Nor none so lefe757 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 sayde, Lord, gramarcy:758759130 I dare undertake for them, That true men shal they be.

But good my lord, speke som mery word,

That comfort they may se.

I graunt you grace, then sayd our king;135

Washe, felos, and to meate go ye.

They had not setten but a whyle

Certayne without lesynge,760 There came messengers out of the north With letters to our kyng.140

And whan the came before the kynge,

They knelt downe on theyr kne;

And sayd, Lord, your officers grete you well,

Of Carleile in the north cuntrè.

How fareth 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 that thou tell me?150

"Adam Bell, and Clime of the Clough,

And Wyllyam of Cloudeslè."

Alas for rewth!761 then sayd our kynge: My hart is wonderous sore; I had lever762 than a thousande pounde,155 I had knowne of thys before;

For I have graunted them grace,

And that forthynketh763 me: But had I knowne all thys before, They had been hanged all thre.160

The kyng hee opened the letter anone,

Himselfe he red it thro,

And founde how these outlawes had slain

Thre hundred men and mo:

Fyrst the justice, and the sheryfe,165

And the mayre of Carleile towne;

Of all the constables and catchipolles

Alyve were 'scant' left one:764

The baylyes, and the bedyls both,

And the sergeauntes of the law,170

And forty fosters of the fe,765 These outlawes had yslaw:766

And broke his parks, and slayne his dere;

Of all they chose the best;

So perelous out-lawes, as they were,175

Walked not by easte nor west.

When the kynge this letter had red,

In hys harte he syghed sore:

Take up the tables anone he bad,

For I may eat no more.180

The kyng called hys best archars

To the buttes wyth hym to go:

I wyll se these felowes shote, he sayd,

In the north have wrought this wo.

The kynges bowmen buske them blyve,767768185 And the quenes archers also; So dyd these thre wyghtye yemen; With 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 prycke769 myght stand.

Then spake Wyllyam of Cloudeslè;

By him that for me dyed,

I hold hym never no good archar,195

That shoteth at buttes so wyde.

'At what a butte now wold ye shote,'

I pray thee tell to me?

At suche a but, syr, he sayd,

As men use in my countree.200

Wyllyam wente into a fyeld,

And 'with him' his two brethren:770 There they set up two hasell roddes771770 Twenty score paces betwene.772

I hold him an archar, said Cloudeslè,205

That yonder wande cleveth in two.

Here is none suche, sayd the kyng,

Nor no man can so do.773

I shall assaye, syr, sayd Cloudeslè,

Or that I farther go.210

Cloudesly with a bearyng arowe774 Clave the wand in two.770

Thou art the best archer, then said the king,

Forsothe that ever I se.

And yet for your love, sayd Wyllyam,215

I wyll do more maystery.775

I have a sonne is seven yere olde,

He is to me full deare;

I wyll hym tye to a stake;

All shall se, that be here;220

And lay an apple upon hys head,

And go syxe score paces hym fro,776 And I my selfe with a brode aròw Shall cleve the apple in two.

Now haste the, then sayd the kyng,225

By hym that dyed on a tre,

But yf thou do not, as thou hest sayde,

Hanged shalt thou be.

And thou touche his head or gowne,

In fyght 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,

That I wyll never forsake.

And there even before the kynge235

In the earth he drove a stake:

And bound thereto his eldest sonne,

And bad hym stand styll thereat;

And turned the childes face him fro,

Because he should not start.240

An apple upon his head he set,

And then his bowe he bent:

Syxe score paces they were meaten,777 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 wer there,

That they 'all still wold' stand,250

For he that shoteth for such a wager,

Behoveth a stedfast hand.778

Muche people prayed for Cloudeslè,

That his lyfe saved myght be,

And whan he made hym redy to shote,255

There was many weeping ee.

'But' Cloudeslè clefte the apple in two,

'His sonne he did not nee.'779 Over Gods forbode, sayde the kinge, That thou shold shote at me.260

I geve thee eightene pence a day,

And my bowe shalt thou bere,

And over all the north countrè

I make the chyfe rydère.780

And I thyrtene pence a day, said the quene,781265 By God, and by my fay;782 Come feche thy payment when thou wylt, No man shall say the nay.

Wyllyam, I make the a gentleman

Of clothyng, and of fe:270

And thy 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 he shall be;

And when he commeth to mans estate,275

Better avaunced shall he be.

And, Wyllyam, bring me your wife, said the quene,

Me longeth her sore to se:

She shall be my chefe gentlewoman,

To governe my nurserye.280

The yemen thanked them all curteously.

To some byshop wyl we wend,783 Of all the synnes, that we have done, To be assoyld784 at his hand.

So forth be gone these good yemen,285

As fast as they might 'he785'; 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 a hand-bowe shoteth:

That of heven may never mysse. Amen.

Reliques of Ancient English Poetry (Vol. 1-3)

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