Poetry. John Skelton. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: John Skelton
Издательство: Bookwire
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Жанр произведения: Языкознание
Год издания: 0
isbn: 4064066309909
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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,

      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 crane with his trumpe,

      The gose and the gander,

      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;

      Must helpe vs to houle;

      With the fesaunte,

      And the gaglynge gaunte,

      And the churlysshe chowgh;

      The barnacle, the bussarde, 450

      The dyuendop to slepe;

      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

      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

      He can not well fly,

      Nor synge tunably,

      Yet at a brayde

      He hath well assayde

      To solfe aboue ela,

       Ne quando

      Male cantando, 490

      The best that we can,

      To make hym our belman,

      And