Thus be these good yeomen gone to the wood,
As light as leaf on linde;
They laugh and be merry in their mood,
Their en'mies were far behind.
When they came to Inglewood,
Under their trysting tree,
There they found bow-es full good,
And arrows great plent-y.
"So help me God," said Adam Bell,
And Clym of the Clough so free,
"I would we were now in merry Carlisle,
Before that fair meynie!"
They sit them down and make good cheer,
And eat and drink full well.--
Here is a fytte of these wight yeomen,
And another I shall you tell.
THE THIRD FYTTE.
As they sat in Inglewood
Under their trysting tree,
They thought they heard a woman weep,
But her they might not see.
Sore there sigh-ed fair Al-ice,
And said, "Alas that e'er I see this day!
For now is my dear husband slain:
Alas, and well away!
"Might I have spoken with his dear brethren,
With either of them twain,
To show-e them what him befell,
My heart were out of pain."
Cloudeslie walked a little beside,
And looked under the greenwood linde;
He was ware of his wife and his children three,
Full woe in heart and mind.
"Welcome, wife," then said Willi-am,
"Under this trysting tree!
I had weened yesterday, by sweet Saint John,
Thou should me never have see.
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