Tore to pieces. . . . .  These villainous false cats, Were made for mice and rats, And not for birdies small. . . . .  Alas, mine heart is slayeth My Philip’s doleful death, When I remember it, How prettily it would sit, Many times and oft, Upon my finger aloft. . . . .  To weep with me, look that ye come, All manner of birds of your kind; So none be left behind, To mourning look that ye fall With dolorous songs funeral, Some to sing, and some to say, Some to weep, and some to pray, Every bird in his lay.  The goldfinch and the wagtail; The gangling jay to rail, The flecked pie to chatter Of the dolorous matter; The robin redbreast, He shall be the priest, The requiem mass to sing, Softly warbling, With help of the red sparrow, And the chattering swallow, This hearse for to hallow; The lark with his lung too, The chaffinch and the martinet also; . . . .  The lusty chanting nightingale, The popinjay to tell her tale, That peepeth oft in the glass, Shall read the Gospel at mass; The mavis with her whistle Shall read there the Epistle, But with a large and a long To keep just plain song. . . . .  The peacock so proud, Because his voice is loud, And hath a glorious tail He shall sing the grayle;

    The owl that is so foul
    Must help us to howl.

    Gradual = the part of the mass between Epistle and Gospel.
    . . . . 
        At the Placebo
    We may not forgo
    The chanting of the daw
    The stork also,
    That maketh her nest
    In chimnies to rest.
    . . . . 
    The ostrich that will eat
    A horseshoe so great,
    In the stead of meat,
    Such fervent heat
    His stomach doth gnaw. 
    He cannot well fly
    Nor sing tunably.
    . . . . 
    The best that we can
    To make him our bellman,
    And let him ring the bells,
    He can do nothing else. 
        Chanticlere our cock
    Must tell what is of the clock
    By the astrology
    That he hath naturally
    Conceived and caught,
    And was never taught.
    . . . . 
        To Jupiter I call
    Of heaven imperial
    That Philip may fly
    Above the starry sky
    To greet the pretty wren
    That is our Lady’s hen,
    Amen, amen, amen.

Chapter XXXVI THE RENAISSANCE

RENAISSANCE means rebirth, and to make you understand something of what the word means in our literature I must take you a long way.  You have been told that the fifteenth century was a dull time in English literature, but that it was also a time of new action and new life, for the discovery of new worlds and the discovery of printing had opened men’s eyes and minds to new wonders.  There was a third event which added to this new life by bringing new thought and new learning to England.  That was the taking of Constantinople by the Turks.