The Project Gutenberg EBook of Quaint Gleanings from Ancient 
Poetry by Edmund Goldsmid 
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Title: Quaint Gleanings from Ancient Poetry 
Author: Edmund Goldsmid 
Release Date: August, 2004 [EBook #6375]
[Yes, we are more than 
one year ahead of schedule]
[This file was first posted on December 2, 
2002] 
Edition: 10 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ASCII
0. START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, QUAINT 
GLEANINGS FROM ANCIENT POETRY *** 
Beth Constantine, David Starner, Charles Franks and the Online 
Distributed Proofreading Team. 
Quaint Gleanings From Ancient Poetry: 
A COLLECTION OF CURIOUS POETICAL COMPOSITIONS
OF THE XVIth, XVIIth, AND XVIIIth CENTURIES. 
EDITED From MSS. and Rare Printed Originals
BY EDMUND 
GOLDSMID, F.R.H.S. 
INTRODUCTION. 
The following curious collection I have gathered together during 
several years' reading in out-of-the-way corners. Manuscripts, in public 
and private libraries; old books picked up on dusty bookstalls, or 
carried away as prizes from the battlefield of the auction-room; even 
pencillings on the inside of tattered bindings,--all have been laid under 
contribution. I trust this medley, or pot-pourri, of snatches of song, 
grave and gay, will prove as interesting to my readers as they have been 
to myself. They claim attention on various grounds: some are the works 
of well-known men, such as Anthony Munday and Warren Hastings; 
some are bitter political squibs--such, for instance, as the "Satyre 
against the Scots," page 47; some, again, are exquisitely beautiful, as 
"The Dirge," page 53. A few have appeared in different collections: but 
none of my readers, I will undertake to say, have seen more than a 
half-dozen or so. 
With these few words I beg to introduce Volume One of the 
"Collectanea Adamantaea." 
EDMUND GOLDSMID. 
Edinburgh, March 6th, 1884. 
CONTENTS.
I. BEAUTIES FORT 
II. MY BONNY LASS, THINE EYE 
III. ANTHONY MUNDAY'S POEM ON THE CAPTIVITY OF 
JOHN FOX 
IV. CARE FOR THY SOUL 
V. MEGLIORA SPERO 
VI. A LETTER FROM THE DUKE OF MONMOUTH TO THE 
KING 
VII. THE KING'S ANSWER 
VIII. AN EPITAPH ON DUNDEE 
IX. THE ROBBER ROBB'D 
X. AH! THE SHEPHERD'S MOURNFUL FATE 
XI. VERSES TO A FRIEND 
XII. A PANYGYRICK UPON OATES 
XIII. THE MIRACLE 
XIV. THE PATRIOTS 
XV. JUSTICE IN MASQUERADE 
XVI. THE BRAWNY BISHOP'S LAMENT 
XVII. THE POOR BLIND BOY 
XVIII. THE INISKILLING REGIMENT 
XIX. A BALLAD ON THE FLEET
XX. ON MR. FOX AND MR. HASTINGS 
XXI. AN IMITATION OF HORACE, BK. II, ODE 16 
XXII. EPITAPH ON DR. JOHNSON 
XXIII. VERSES UPON THE ROAD 
XXIV. SATYR ON THE SCOTS 
XXV. THE MARSEILLAISE 
XXVI. A DIRGE 
BEAUTIES FORT. 
FROM AN ANONYMOUS MS., LATELY IN POSSESSION OF
J. P. COLLIER, ESQ., F.S.A. 
When raging Love, with fierce assault,
Strikes at fair Beauties gate,
What army hath she to resist
And keepe her court and state? 
She calleth first on Chastitie
To lende her help in time;
And 
Prudence no lesse summons shee
To meet her foe so trim. 
And female Courage she alwaye
Doth bring unto the walle,
To 
blowe the trump in her dismaye,
Fearing her fort may falle. 
On force of wordes she much relies
Her foe without to keepe,
And 
parleyeth with her two bright eyes
When they her dyke would leape. 
Yet natheless the more she strives,
The lesse she keepes him out,
For she hath traitors in her camp
That keepe her still in doubt. 
The first and worst of these the Fleshe,
Then womans Vanitie
That 
still is caughte within the meshe
Of guilefull Flatterie.
These traitors ope the gate at length;
And in, with sword in hande,
Came raging Love, and all her strength
No longer can withstande. 
Prudence and Chastitie both to
Submit unto the foe;
And female 
Courage nought can doe
But down her walls must goe. 
She needes must yield her castle strong,
And Love triumphs once 
more;
Its onely what the boy hath done
A thousand times before. 
None may resist his mightie power;
And though a boy, and blinde,
He knows to chase a happie hour
When maidens must be kinde. 
MY BONNY LASS! THINE EYE. 
By THOMAS LODGE, M.D. 
[Footnote: The original of this poem not being within my reach at 
present, I have inserted Professor Arber's modern version.] 
My bonny lass! thine eye, 
So sly,
Hath made    
    
		
	
	
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