Helpe nowe, swete Jesus! _Levavi oculos meos in montes_:[339] Wolde God I had Zenophontes,[340] Or Socrates the wyse, To shew me their deuyse, 100 Moderatly to take This sorow that I make For Phyllip Sparowes sake! So feruently I shake, I fele my body quake; So vrgently I am brought Into carefull thought. Like Andromach,[341] Hectors wyfe, Was wery of her lyfe, Whan she had lost her ioye, 110 Noble Hector of Troye; In lyke maner also Encreaseth my dedly wo, For my sparowe is go. It was so prety a fole, It wold syt[342] on a stole, And lerned after my scole For to kepe his cut, With, Phyllyp, kepe your cut! It had a veluet cap, 120 And wold syt vpon my lap, And seke after small wormes, And somtyme white bred crommes; And many tymes and ofte Betwene my brestes softe It wolde lye and rest; It was propre and prest. Somtyme he wolde gaspe Whan he sawe a waspe; A fly or a gnat, 130 He wolde flye at that; And prytely he wold pant Whan he saw an ant; Lord, how he wolde pry After the butterfly! Lorde, how he wolde hop After the gressop! And whan I sayd, Phyp, Phyp, Than he wold lepe and skyp, And take me by the lyp. 140 Alas, it wyll me slo, That Phillyp is gone me fro! _Si in i qui ta tes_, Alas, I was euyll at ease! _De pro fun dis cla ma vi_, Whan I sawe my sparowe dye! Nowe, after my dome, Dame Sulpicia[343] at Rome, Whose name regystred was For euer in tables of bras, 150 Because that[344] she dyd pas In poesy to endyte, And eloquently[345] to wryte, Though she wolde pretende My sparowe to commende, I trowe she coude not amende Reportynge the vertues all Of my sparowe royall. For it wold come and go, And fly[346] so to and fro; 160 And on me it wolde lepe Whan I was aslepe, And his fethers[347] shake, Wherewith he wolde make Me often for to wake, And for to take him in Vpon my naked skyn; God wot, we thought no syn: What though[348] he crept so lowe? It was no hurt, I trowe, 170 He dyd nothynge perde But syt vpon my kne: Phyllyp, though he were nyse, In him it was no vyse; Phyllyp had leue to go To pyke my lytell too; Phillip myght be bolde And do what he wolde; Phillip wolde seke and take All the flees blake 180 That he coulde there espye With his wanton eye. _O pe ra_, La, soll, fa, fa, _Confitebor tibi, Domine, in[349] toto corde meo_. Alas, I wold ryde and go A thousand myle of grounde! If any such might be found, It were worth an hundreth pound