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 Description of the Fight.
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 | Poems, and phancies |  |
A Description of the Fight.
Some with sharp Swords, to tell, O most accurst!Were above half into their Bodies thrust,
From whence fresh Streams of Blood along did run
Unto the Hilts, and there lay Clodded on;
Some, their Legs Dangling by the Nervous strings,
And Shoulders Cut hung Loose like flying wings;
Heads here were Cleft in pieces, Brains lay Masht,
And all their Faces into Slices hasht;
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Did Quivering lye within that little Skin,
Their Sculs all broke and into pieces burst,
By Horses Hoofs and Chariot Wheels were crusht;
Others, their Heads did lye on their own Laps,
And some again half Cut lay on their Paps;
Some thrust their Tongues out of their Mouths at length,
For why? the Strings were Cut that gave them strength;
Their Eyes did Stare, their Lids were Open wide,
For the small Nerves were Shrunk on every Side;
In some again those Glassie Balls hung by
Small slender Strings, as Chains, to tye the Eye,
Wch Strings when broke, the Eyes fell Trundling round,
And then the Film was broke upon the Ground;
In Death their Teeth strong set, their Lips were bare,
Which Grinning seem'd as if they angry were;
Their Hair upon their Eyes in Clodded gore
So wildly Spred, as ne're it did before;
With Frowns their Fore-heads did in Furrows lye,
As Graves, their Foes to Bury, when they Dye;
Their Spongy Lungs heav'd up through Pangs of Death,
With Pain and Difficulty fetch'd short Breath;
Some Grasping hard their Hands through pain provok'd,
Because the ratling Flegm their Throats had Choak'd;
Their Bodies now Bow'd up, then down did fall
For want of Strength to make them stand withall;
Some Staggering on their Leggs did feebly stand,
Or Leaning on their Sword with either hand,
Where on the Pummel did their Breast rely,
More Griev'd they could not Fight, than for to Dye;
Their hollow Eyes sunk deep into their Brain,
And Hard-fetch'd Groans did from each Heart-string strain;
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But all too little, through their Blood they Swom;
Guts did, like Sausages, their Bodies twine,
Or like the spreading Plant, or wreathing Vine;
Their restless Heads not knowing how to lye,
Through grievous Pains did quickly wish to Dye,
Rowling from off their Back upon their Belly,
Did Tumble in their Blood as thick as Gelly,
And Gasping lay with short Breaths, and constraint,
With Cold sweat drops upon their Faces faint,
Heaving their Dull pale Eye-balls up did look,
As if through Pain, not Hate, the World forsook;
Some Chilly Cold, as Shivering Agues are,
Some Burning Hot, as in high Feavers were;
Some Spewing Blood from Stomacks that are Sick,
Through parching Heat their Tongue to th'Roof did stick;
Their Bodies with loud Groans their Souls call'd back,
While smarting Wounds did set them on the wrack,
And on their Arms their Faces lay across,
As if in Death they were asham'd of Loss;
Some Dying lay like Flame whose Oyl is spent,
Or Fire that's Smother'd out and wanteth Vent;
And some did fall like strong and hardy Oaks,
Which are Hewn down with Feirce and Cruel stroaks;
Their Limbs chopt Small as Wood for Fire to burn,
Or Carved, or Chipt out for Joyners turn;
Some underneath their Horses Bellies flung,
Some by the Heels in their own Stirrups hung;
Others their Heads and Necks being all awry,
Did on their Horses Mains, as Pillows lye;
Some in a Careless Garb lay on the Ground,
Despis'd Life, since in Death is Honour found;
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Some Car'd not, some did Burials require;
Some beat their Breasts as if they'd done some Ill,
Some burn'd with hot Revenge, their Foes to Kill;
Some lay as if to hear the Trumpet sound,
And others did lye Sprawling on the Ground;
Some wish'd their Death's Revenge upon their Foe,
Some did with Dying Eyes their Friends not know;
Some would their Parents, some their Children see,
Others wish'd Life, some Difference to agree:
But Lovers with a Soft and Panting Heart,
Did wish their Mistress at their Sad depart
To shut their Eyes, their gaping Wounds to close,
VVhose Dying Spirit to their Mistress goes;
Foes Hands into each others VVounds thrust wide,
As if their Hearts they'ld pull out from each Side;
Some Friends in dear Imbracements closely twin'd,
By their Affections strong in Death were Joyn'd;
Some wish'd to Live, yet long'd for Death through Pain,
Others Dyed Grieving that their Foe's not Slain;
Some did Repent what they so Rash had done,
And wish'd the Battel were to be begun;
Some gently Sinking by a Fainting fall,
Yield quietly to Death when he did call;
Some Drunk with Death not able were to stand,
But Reeling fell, struck down by Death's Cold hand;
Some Lingred long, as Lovers, when they must
Part, some did willing yield to Fate their Dust,
And sweetly lay as if Asleep at Night;
Some Stern, as if new Battels they would Fight,
Some softly Murm'ring like a Bubbling stream,
Did sweetly Smile in Death, as in a Dream;
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To Live with th'Gods above the Starry Sky:
Thus several Noises through the Air did Ring,
And several Postures Death to Men did bring;
Where some did Dye Outragious in Despair,
Others so Gentle as without all fear.
High Hills with Heaps of Bodies there were Grown,
And Hair as Grass, and Teeth as Seed were Sown;
Their Heads and Heels Horsemen together lay,
Smother'd to Death which could not get away;
Their Arms lay Hack'd, and all were Thrown about,
And Targets full of Holes, that kept Death out;
Their Flags which first like moving Woods did show,
On whose Tops various Colours seem'd to Grow,
As if Flow'rs from high Trees had Sprouted out,
Or in the open Air were strew'd about,
VVere now all fall'n and into Pieces torn,
Their Mottoes Raz'd which did their Sides adorn;
Some did like winding Sheets their Bearers shroud,
VVhich was an Honour fit to make Death proud;
Some were like Virgins, which their Eyes cast Low
Through Shamefac'tness, though they no fault did know,
Nor Guilty were, but overcome with Strength,
Not by their own Consent, but forc'd at Length:
For Courage, like to Chastity, we find
Is forc'd to lay down Arms, though 'gainst its Mind;
Gauntlets and Corslets, Saddles lay here and there,
Flags, Pikes, Drums, Guns were scatter'd every where,
And Plumes of Feathers which wav'd with the Wind,
And proudly Toss'd, like to some haughty Mind,
Just like Prosperity when Over-born,
Now Humbly lay, and were in Pieces torn;
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By Men of Courage, never knowing Fear,
Now Over-power'd lay by strong Assault,
And lost by Force, 'twas not their Courage fault;
For they on Death's dull Face could Boldly stare,
Since Life they Hate, lest they Victorious were;
Dead Horses lay on th'Backs, their Heels up flung,
Their Eys were sunk, Heads turn'd, their Jaws down hung;
Their thick Curl'd Manes wch grew down to the Ground,
Or by their Masters in fine Ribbons bound,
Were Torn half off, or Sing'd by Fire from Guns,
Or Snarled in a Knot which backward runs;
Their Nostrils wide from whence thick Smoak out-went,
Which Vapour from their hot stout Hearts was sent,
Their Sleek bright Hair o'th' Skin like Coats of Mail,
And their feirce Courage which could nothing quail,
All lay in Death, by Fortune they were cast,
And Nature to new Forms went on in haste;
For neither Beauty, Strength, nor nimble Feet,
Can serve in Death, all Beasts alike there meet.
Thus Horse and Man in several Postures lies,
With several Pains in several Places Dyes!
When Horses Dye they know no reason why;
But Men do Venture Life for Vain-glory;
Smoak from their Blood into Red Clouds did rise,
Which Flash't like Lightning in all Living Eyes;
Their Groans into the middle Region went,
And Echoes did the Air like Thunder rent;
From Sighs Winds rarified such Gusts did blow,
As if they 'scended from the Shades below;
Men strive to Dye, to make their Names to Live,
When Gods no Certainty to Fame will give.
| Poems, and phancies | |