The spercles brent and fell hym on, Good Wyllyam of Cloudeslè! But than wax he a wofull man, 135 And sayde, "thys is a cowardes death to me. "Leuer I had," sayde Wyllyam, "With my sworde in the route to renne, Then here among myne ennemyes wode, Thus cruelly to bren." 140 He toke hys sweard and hys buckler, And among them all he ran; Where the people were most in prece, He smot downe many a man. There myght no man stand hys stroke, 145 So fersly on them he ran; Then they threw wyndowes and dores on him, And so toke that good yemàn. There they hym bounde both hande and fote, And in depe dongeon hym cast; 150 "Now, Cloudeslè," sayd the hye justice, "Thou shalt be hanged in hast." "One vow shal I make," sayd the sherife, "A payre of newe galowes shall I for the make, And the gates of Caerlel shal be shutte, 155 There shall no man come in therat. "Then shall not helpe Clim of the Cloughe, Nor yet shall Adam Bell, Though they came with a thousand mo, Nor all the devels in hell." 160 Early in the mornyng the justice uprose, To the gates first gan he gon, And commaundede to be shut full cloce Lightilè everychone. Then went he to the market place, 165 As fast as he coulde hye; A payre of new gallous there did he up set, Besyde the pyllory. A lytle boy stod them amonge, And asked what meaned that gallow tre; 170 They sayde, "to hange a good yeamàn, Called Wyllyam of Cloudeslè." That lytle boye was the towne swyne-heard, And kept fayre Alyce swyne,[L174] Oft he had seene Cloudeslè in the wodde, 175 And geuen hym there to dyne. He went out att a creves in the wall, And lightly to the wood dyd gone; There met he with these wight yonge men, Shortly and anone. 180 "Alas!" then sayde that lytle boye, "Ye tary here all to longe; Cloudeslè is taken and dampned to death, All readye for to honge." "Alas!" then sayde good Adam Bell, 185 "That ever we see thys daye! He myght her with us have dwelled, So ofte as we dyd him praye! "He myght have taryed in grene foreste, Under the shadowes sheene, 190 And have kepte both hym and us in reaste, Out of trouble and teene!" Adam bent a ryght good bow, A great hart sone had he slayne; "Take that, chylde," he sayde, "to thy dynner, 195 And bryng me myne arrowe agayne."