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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 | Poems, and phancies |  |
Upon the Funeral of my Dear Brother, Kill'd in these Unhappy Warrs.
Alas! Who shall my Funeral Mourner be,
Since none is near that is Ally'd to me?
Or who shall drop a Sacrifizing Tear,
If none but Enemies my Hearse shall bear?
Since none is near that is Ally'd to me?
Or who shall drop a Sacrifizing Tear,
If none but Enemies my Hearse shall bear?
For here's no Mourner to Lament my fall,
But in my Fate, though Sad, Rejoyced all,
And think my heavy Ruine far too Light,
So Cruel is their Malice, Spleen, and Spight!
But in my Fate, though Sad, Rejoyced all,
And think my heavy Ruine far too Light,
So Cruel is their Malice, Spleen, and Spight!
For Men no Pity nor Compassion know,
But like feirce Beasts in Savage Wildness go,
To Wash and Bathe themselves in my poor Blood,
As if they Health receiv'd from that Red Flood.
But like feirce Beasts in Savage Wildness go,
To Wash and Bathe themselves in my poor Blood,
As if they Health receiv'd from that Red Flood.
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Yet will the Winds my Dolefull Knell Ring out,
And Shouring Rain fall on my Hearse about;
The Birds, as Mourners on my Tomb shall Sit,
And Grass, like as a Covering Grow on it.
And Shouring Rain fall on my Hearse about;
The Birds, as Mourners on my Tomb shall Sit,
And Grass, like as a Covering Grow on it.
Then let no Spade, nor Pick-ax come near me,
But let my Bones in Peace rest Quietly;
He, who the Dead Dislodges from their Grave,
Shall neither Blessedness, nor Honour have.
But let my Bones in Peace rest Quietly;
He, who the Dead Dislodges from their Grave,
Shall neither Blessedness, nor Honour have.
| Poems, and phancies | |