Poetry. John Skelton
Phyllyp by the head,
And slew him there starke dead.
Kyrie, eleison,
Christe, eleison, 380
Kyrie, eleison!
For Phylyp Sparowes soule,
Set in our bederolle,
Let vs now whysper
A Pater noster.
Lauda, anima mea, Dominum!
To wepe with me loke that ye come,
All maner of byrdes in your kynd;
Se none be left behynde.
To mornynge loke that ye fall 390
With dolorous songes funerall,
Some to synge, and some to say,
Some to wepe, and some to pray,
Euery byrde in his laye.
The goldfynche, the wagtayle;
The ianglynge iay to rayle,
The fleckyd pye to chatter
Of this dolorous mater;
And robyn redbrest,
He shall be the preest 400
The requiem masse to synge,
Softly[364] warbelynge,
With helpe of the red sparow,
And the chattrynge swallow,
This herse for to halow;
The larke with his longe to;
The spynke, and the martynet also;
The shouelar with his brode bek;
The doterell, that folyshe pek,
And also the mad coote, 410
With a balde face to toote;
The feldefare, and the snyte;
The crowe, and the kyte;
The rauyn, called Rolfe,
His playne songe to solfe;
The partryche, the quayle;
The plouer with vs to wayle;
The woodhacke, that syngeth chur
Horsly, as he had the mur;
The lusty chauntyng nyghtyngale; 420
The popyngay to tell her tale,
That toteth oft in a glasse,
Shal rede the Gospell at masse;
The mauys with her whystell
Shal rede there the pystell.
But with a large and a longe
To kepe iust playne songe,
Our chaunters shalbe the cuckoue,
The culuer, the stockedowue,
With puwyt the lapwyng, 430
The versycles shall syng.
The bitter[365] with his bumpe,
The crane with his trumpe,
The swan of Menander,[366]
The gose and the gander,
The ducke and the[367] drake,
Shall watche at this wake;
The pecocke so prowde,
Bycause his voyce is lowde,
And hath a glorious tayle, 440
He shall syng the grayle;
The owle, that is[368] so foule,
Must helpe vs to houle;
The heron so gaunce,[369]
And the cormoraunce,[370]
With the fesaunte,
And the gaglynge gaunte,
And the churlysshe chowgh;
The route and the kowgh;[371]
The barnacle, the bussarde, 450
With the wilde[372] mallarde;
The dyuendop to slepe;
The water hen[373] to wepe;
The puffin[374] and the tele
Money they shall dele
To poore folke at large,
That shall be theyr charge;
The semewe and the tytmose;
The wodcocke with the longe nose;
The threstyl with her warblyng; 460
The starlyng with her brablyng;
The roke, with the ospraye
That putteth fysshes to a fraye;
And the denty curlewe,
With the turtyll most trew.
At this Placebo
We may not well forgo
The countrynge of the coe:
The storke also,
That maketh his nest 470
In chymneyes to rest;
Within those walles
No[375] broken galles
May there abyde
Of cokoldry syde,
Or els phylosophy
Maketh a great lye.
The estryge, that wyll eate
An horshowe so great,
In the stede of meate, 480
Such feruent heat
His stomake doth freat;[376]
He can not well fly,
Nor synge tunably,
Yet at a brayde
He hath well assayde
To solfe aboue ela,
Ga,[377] lorell, fa, fa;
Ne quando
Male cantando, 490
The best that we can,
To make hym our belman,
And