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- Quaint Gleanings from Ancient Poetry - 1/10 -


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 me sorrow so. Thy crimson cheeks, my dear! So clear, Have so much wrought my woe.

Thy pleasing smiles and grace, Thy face, Have ravished so my sprites, That life is grown to nought Through thought Of love, which me affrights.

For fancy's flames of fire Aspire Unto such furious power, As but the tears I shed Make dead, The brands would me devour.

I should consume to nought Through thought Of thy fair shining eye, Thy cheeks, thy pleasing smiles, The wiles


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