They fyred the house in many a place, The fyre flew up on hye: 'Alas!' than cryed fayr Alice.

'I se we shall here dye.'

31.

William openyd hys backe wyndow, That was in hys chamber on hie, And with sheetes let hys wyfe downe And hys children three.

32.

'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.'

33.

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

34.

The spercles brent and fell hym on, Good Wyllyam of Cloudesle; But than was he a wofull man, and sayde, 'Thys is a cowardes death to me.

35.

'Lever I had,' sayde Wyllyam, 'With my sworde in the route to renne, Then here among myne enemyes wode Thus cruelly to bren.'

36.

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

37.

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

38.

There they hym bounde both hand and fote, And in a deepe dongeon him cast: 'Now, Cloudesle,' sayd the hye justice, 'Thou shalt be hanged in hast.'

39.

'One vow shal I make,' sayde the sherife, 'A payre of new gallowes shal I for thee make; And all the gates of Carlile shal be shutte: There shall no man come in therat.

40.

'Then shall not helpe Clym of the Cloughe, Nor yet Adam Bell, Though they came with a thousand mo, Nor all the devels in h.e.l.l.'

41.

Early in the mornyng the justice uprose, To the gates fast gan he gon, And commaunded to be shut full close Lightile everychone.

42.

Then went he to the markett place, As fast as he coulde hye; A payre of new gallowes there dyd he up set, Besyde the pyllorye.

43.

A lytle boy stood them among, And asked what meaned that gallow-tre?

They sayde, 'To hange a good yeman, Called Wyllyam of Cloudesle.'

44.

That lytle boye was the towne swyne-heard, And kept fayre Alyce swyne; Full oft he had seene Cloudesle in the wodde, And geven hym there to dyne.

45.

He went out of a crevis in the wall, And lightly to the woode dyd gone; There met he with these wight yonge men Shortly and anone.

46.

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

47.

'Alas!' then sayd good Adam Bell, 'That ever we see thys daye!

He might here with us have dwelled, So ofte as we dyd him praye.

48.

'He myght have taryed in grene foreste, Under the shadowes sheene, And have kepte both hym and us in reste, Out of trouble and teene.'

49.

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

50.

'Now go we hence,' sayed these wight yong men, 'Tarry we no longer here; We shall hym borowe, by G.o.d's grace, Though we buy itt full dere.'

51.

To Caerlel wente these good yemen, In a mery mornyng of Maye.

Here is a fyt of Cloudesly, And another is for to saye.

52.

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

53.

'Alas!' than sayd good Adam Bell, 'That ever we were made men!

These gates be shut so wonderly well, That we may not come herein.'

54.

Than spake Clym of the Clough, 'Wyth a wyle we wyl us in bryng; Let us saye we be messengers, Streyght comen from our king.'

55.

Adam said, 'I have a letter written wele, Now let us wysely werke, We wyl saye we have the kynges seale; I holde the porter no clerke.'

56.

Than Adam Bell bete on the gate With strokes great and stronge: The porter herde suche a noyse therat, And to the gate faste he thronge.

57.

'Who is there now,' sayde the porter, 'That maketh all this knockinge?'

'We be two messengers,' sayd Clim of the Clough, 'Be comen streyght from our kyng.'

58.

'We have a letter,' sayd Adam Bell, 'To the justice we must it bryng; Let us in our message to do, That we were agayne to our kyng.'

59.

'Here commeth no man in,' sayd the porter, 'By hym that dyed on a tre, Tyll a false thefe be hanged Called Wyllyam of Cloudesle.'

60.

Than spake that good yeman Clym of the Clough, And swore by Mary fre, 'If that we stande long wythout, Lyke a thefe hanged shalt thou be.

61.

'Lo! here we have got the kynges seale: What, lordane, art thou wode?'