307 [from Phyllyp Sparowe]
Pla ce bo
Who is there who
Di le xi.
Dame Margery.
5 Fa re my my
Wherfore and why why
For the sowle of Philip sparowe
That was late slayn at carowe
Among the Nones blake
10 For that swete soules sake
And for all sparowes soules
Set in our bede rolles
With an Ave mari
15 And with the corner of a Crede
The more shalbe your mede.
Whan I remembre agayn
How mi philyp was slayn
Never halfe the payne
20 Was betwene you twayne
Pyramus and Thesbe
As than befell to me
I wept and I wayled
The tearys downe hayled
25 But nothynge it avayled
To call Phylyp agayne
Whom Gyb our cat hath slayne
Worrowyd her on that
30 Which I loved best
It can not be exprest
My sorowfull hevynesse
But all without redresse
For within that stounde
35 Halfe slumbrynge in a sounde
I fell downe to the grounde
Unneth I kest myne eyes
Towarde the cloudy skyes
But whan I dyd beholde
40 My sparow dead and colde
No creatuer but that wolde
Have rewed upon me
To behold and se
What hevynesse dyd me pange
45 Where with my handes I wrange
That my senaws cracked
As though I had ben racked
So payned and so strayned
That no lyfe well nye remayned
50 I syghed and I sobbed
For that I was robbed
Of my sparowes lyfe
O mayden, wydow, and wyfe
Of what estate ye be
55 Of hye or lowe degre
Great sorowe than ye myght se
And lerne to wepe at me
Such paynes dyd me frete
That myne hert dyd bete
60 My vysage pale and dead
Wanne, and blewe as lead
The panges of hatefull death
Well nye had stopped my breath
Heu heu me
65 That I am wo for the
Ad dominum cum tribularer clamavi
Of God nothynge els crave I
But phyllypes soule to kepe
From the marees depe
70 Of Acherontes well
That is a flode of hell
And from the great Pluto
The prynce of endles wo
And from foule Alecto
75 With vysage blacke and blo
And from Medusa that mare
That lyke a fende doth stare
And from Megeras edders
For rufflynge of phillips fethers
80 And from her fyry sparklynges
For burnynge of his wynges
And from the smokes sowre
Of Proserpinas bowre
And from the dennes darke
85 Wher Cerberus doth barke
Whom Theseus dyd afraye
Whom Hercules dyd outraye
As famous poetes say
From that hell hounde
90 That lyeth in cheynes bounde
With gastly hedes thre
To Jupyter pray we
That Phyllyp preserved may be
Amen say ye with me
95 Do me nus.
Helpe nowe swete Jesus
Levavi oculos meos in montes
Wolde god I had zenophontes,
Or Socrates the wyse
100 To shew me their devyse
Moderatly to take
This sorow that I make
For Phyllip sparowes sake
So fervently I shake
105 I fele my body quake
So urgently I am brought
Into carefull thought
Like Andromach Hectors wyfe
Was wery of her lyfe
110 Whan she had lost her joye
Noble Hector of Troye
In lyke maner also
Encreaseth my dedly wo
For my sparowe is go
115 It was so prety a fole
It wold set on a stole
And lerned after my scole
For to kepe his cut
With Phyllyp kepe your cut
120 It had a velvet cap
And wold syt upon my lap
And seke after small wormes
And somtyme white bred crommes
And many tymes and ofte
125 Betwene my brestes softe
It wolde lye and rest
It was propre and prest
Whan he sawe a waspe
130 A fly, or a gnat
He wolde flye at that
And prytely he wold pant
Whan he saw an ant
Lord how he wolde pry
135 After the butterfly
Lorde how he wolde hop
After the gressop
And whan I sayd, phyp, phyp
Than he wold lepe and skyp
140 And take me by the lyp
Alas it wyll me slo
That Phillyp is gone me fro
Si in i qui ta tes
Alas I was evyll at ease
145 De pro fun dis cla ma vi
Whan I sawe my sparowe dye
Nowe after my dome
Dame Sulpicia at Rome
Whose name regystred was
150 For ever in tables of bras
Because that she dyd pas
In poesy to endyte
And eloquently to wryte
Though she wolde pretende
155 My sparowe to commende
I trowe she coude not amende
Reportynge the vertues all
Of my sparowe royall
For it wold come and go
160 And fly so to and fro
And on me it wolde lepe
Whan I was aslepe
Where with he wolde make
165 Me often for to wake
And for to take him in
Upon my naked skyn
God wot we thought no syn
What though he crept so lowe
170 It was no hurt I trowe
He dyd nothynge perde
But syt upon my kne
Phyllyp though he were nyse
In him it was no vyse
175 Phyllyp had leve to go
To pyke my lytell too
Phillip myght be bolde
And do what he wolde
Phillip wolde seke and take
180 All the flees blake
That he coulde there espye
With his wanton eye.