Poetry. John Skelton
let hym ryng the bellys;
He can do nothyng ellys.
Chaunteclere, our coke,
Must tell what is of the clocke
By the astrology
That he hath naturally
Conceyued and cought,[378]
And was neuer tought[379] 500
By Albumazer
The astronomer,
Nor by Ptholomy
Prince of astronomy,
Nor yet by Haly;
And yet he croweth dayly
And nightly[380] the tydes
That no man abydes,
With Partlot his hen,
Whom now and then 510
Hee plucketh by the hede
Whan he doth her trede.
The byrde of Araby,
That potencyally
May neuer dye,
And yet there is none
But one alone;
A phenex it is
This herse that must blys
With armatycke gummes 520
That cost great summes,[381]
The way of thurifycation
To make a[382] fumigation,
Swete of reflary,[383]
And redolent of eyre,[384]
This corse for to[385] sence
With greate reuerence,
As patryarke or pope
In a blacke cope;
Whyles[386] he senseth [the herse], 530
He shall synge the verse,
Libera me,
In de, la, soll, re,
Softly bemole
For my sparowes soule.
Plinni sheweth all
In his story naturall
What he doth fynde
Of the phenyx kynde;
Of whose incyneracyon 540
There ryseth a new creacyon
Of the same facyon
Without alteracyon,
Sauyng that olde age
Is turned into corage
Of fresshe youth agayne;
This matter trew and playne,
Playne matter indede,
Who so lyst to rede.
But for the egle doth flye 550
Hyest in the skye,
He shall be the[387] sedeane,
The quere to demeane,
As prouost pryncypall,
To teach them theyr ordynall;
Also the noble fawcon,
With the gerfawcon,[388]
The tarsell gentyll,
They shall morne soft and styll
In theyr amysse of gray; 560
The sacre with them shall say
Dirige for Phyllyppes soule;
The goshauke shall haue a role
The queresters to controll;
The lanners and the[389] marlyons
Shall stand in their morning gounes;
The hobby and the muskette
The sensers and the crosse shall fet;
The kestrell in all this warke
Shall be holy water[390] clarke. 570
And now the darke cloudy nyght
Chaseth away Phebus bryght,
Taking his course toward the west,
God sende my sparoes sole good rest!
Requiem æternam dona eis,[391] Domine!
Fa, fa, fa, my, re, re,[392]
A por ta in fe ri,
Fa, fa, fa, my, my.
Credo videre bona Domini,
I pray God, Phillip to heuen may fly! 580
Domine, exaudi orationem meam!
To heuen he shall, from heuen he cam!
Do mi nus vo bis cum!
Of al good praiers God send him sum!
Oremus.
Deus, cui proprium est misereri et parcere,
On Phillips soule haue pyte!
For he was a prety cocke,
And came of a gentyll stocke,
And wrapt in a maidenes smocke, 590
And cherysshed full dayntely,
Tyll[393] cruell fate made him to dy:
Alas, for dolefull desteny![394]
But whereto shuld I
Lenger morne or crye?
To Jupyter I call,
Of heuen emperyall,
That Phyllyp may fly
Aboue the starry sky,
To treade the prety wren, 600
That is our Ladyes hen:
Amen, amen, amen!
Yet one thynge is behynde,
That now commeth to mynde;[395]
An epytaphe I wold haue
For