Poems, and phancies written By the Thrice Noble, Illustrious, And Excellent Princess The Lady Marchioness of Newcastle [i.e. Margaret Cavendish]. The Second Impression, much Altered and Corrected |
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A Dialogue betwixt Earth and Darkness.
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 | Poems, and phancies |  |
A Dialogue betwixt Earth and Darkness.
Earth.O horrid Darkness, and you powers of Night,
You direful shades made by Obstructed Light,
Why so Cruel? what evil have I done,
To part me from my Husband, the bright Sun?
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I do not part you, he me hither sends,
Whilst he Rides round to Visit all his Friends;
Besides, he hath more Wives to Love than you,
He never constant is to one, nor true.
Earth.
You do him wrong, for though he Journeys makes
For Exercise, yet Care he for me takes,
He leaves his Stars, and's Sister in his place,
To comfort me, whilst he doth run his Race;
But you do come, most wicked Thievish Night,
And Rob me of that fair and silver Light.
Darkn.
The Moon and Stars they are but Shadows thin,
Small Cob-web Lawn they from his Light do spin,
Which they in Scorn do make, you to disgrace,
As a thin Veil to cover your ill Face:
For Moon and Stars have no strong Light to show
A Colour true, nor how you Bud or Grow,
Only some Ghosts do rise, and take delight
To walk about, when as the Moon shines bright.
Earth.
You are deceiv'd, they cast no such disguise,
But strive to please me, twinkling in the Skies;
The Ghosts my Children are, which being weak
And tender Ey'd, help from the Moon do seek;
For why? her Light is gentle, moist and cold,
Doth ease their Eyes, when they do it behold;
But you with Shadows fright, delude the Sight,
Like Ghosts appear in Gloomy shades of Night,
And you with Clouds do cast upon my back
A mourning Mantle of the deepest Black,
Which covers me with dark Obscurity,
That none of my dear Children I can see,
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Which shew most Beautifull in the Day-light;
They take Delight each other's Face to see,
And with each other's Form in Love they be,
By which kind Sympathy they bring me store
Of children young, wch when grown up, bring more;
But you are Spightfull to those Lovers kind,
Muffle up their Faces, and their Eyes quite Blind.
Darkn.
Is this my Thanks for all my love and care,
And for that great Respect to you I bear?
I am your faithfull, kind, and constant Lover,
I all your Faults and Imperfections cover,
I take you in my gentle Arms of rest,
With cool fresh Dews I bathe your dry hot Breast;
The Children which you by the Sun did bear,
I lay to Sleep, and make them rest from Care,
In Beds of Silence, where they take no harm,
With blankets soft, though black, I keep them warm;
Then shut them close from the disturbing Light,
And yet you Rail against your Lover, Night.
Besides, if you had Light through all the year,
Though Beauty great, 'twould not so well appear:
For what is common, has not such respect,
Nor such regard; for use doth bring neglect;
Nought is admir'd, but what is seldome seen,
And Black, for Change, delights as well as Green.
Yet I should constant be, if I might stay,
But the bright Sun doth beat me quite away:
For he is Active, and Runs all about,
Ne're dwells with one, but seeks new Lovers out;
He spightfull is to other Lovers, since
He by his Light doth give Intelligence;
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Where Lovers meet and whisper many a Hour:
Thus am I faithfull, kind to Lovers true,
And all is for your Sake and Love to you.
I'm Melancholy, yet my Love's as true,
As that great Light's, which is so dear to you;
Then slight me not, nor do my Sute disdain,
But when the Sun is gone, me entertain;
Take me, sweet Love, with Joy into your Bed,
And on your fresh Green breast lay my Black head.
| Poems, and phancies | |