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 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!
