Poems of Margaret Cavendish Duchess of Newcastle

It was so exciting to see this first edition of the poetry of Margaret Cavendish, Lady (later Duchess of) Newcastle, beautifully preserved in the library of St Edmund Hall, Oxford and on show during their open day.
Margaret Cavendish was one of Elizabeth Craven's precursors in poetry, a woman author who had to struggle to get people to take her seriously as a writer.

She is one of so many exciting women writers who have been re-discovered in recent years and given the attention they so richly deserve. Cavendish has many things in common with Craven: both were overt feminists and both wrote plays that feature cross-dressing heroines.

Cavendish's works are extraordinary and ingenious, not least because of their metaphysical blend of science and philosophical ideas with poetry. This poem, "A World in an Ear-ring", is a virtuoso display of mental and verbal ingenuity. 

A World in an Earring

An earring round may well a zodiac be,
Wherein a sun goes round, which we don’t see;
And planets seven about that sun may move,
And he stand still, as learnèd men would prove;
And fixed stars like twinkling diamonds, placed               
About this earring, which a world is, vast.
That same which doth the earring hold, the hole,
Is that we call the North and Southern Pole;
There nipping frosts may be, and winters cold,
Yet never on the lady’s ear take hold.                                   
And lightning, thunder, and great winds may blow
Within this earring, yet the ear not know.
Fish there may swim in seas, which ebb and flow,
And islands be, wherein do spices grow;
There crystal rocks hang dangling at each ear,                 
And golden mines as jewels may they wear.
There earthquakes be, which mountains vast down fling,
And yet ne’er stir the lady’s ear, nor ring.
There meadows be, and pastures fresh and green,
And cattle feed, and yet be never seen,                               
And gardens fresh, and birds which sweetly sing,
Although we hear them not in an earring.
There night and day, and heat and cold, and so
May life and death, and young and old still grow.
Thus youth may spring, and several ages die;                   
Great plagues may be, and no infections nigh.
There cities be, and stately houses built,
Their inside gay, and finely may be gilt.
There churches be, wherein priests teach and sing,
And steeples too, yet hear the bells not ring.                     
From thence may pious tears to Heaven run,
And yet the ear not know which way they’re gone.
There markets be, where things are bought and sold,
Though th’ear knows not the price their markets hold.
There governors do rule, and kings do reign,                  
And battles fought, where many may be slain.
And all within the compass of this ring,
Whence they no tidings to the wearer bring.
Within the ring, wise counsellors may sit,
And yet the ear not one wise word may get.                      
There may be dancing all night at a ball,
And yet the ear be not disturbed at all.
There rivals duels fight, where some are slain;
There lovers mourn, yet hear them not complain.
And Death may dig a lover’s grave: thus were                   
A lover dead in a fair lady’s ear.
But when the ring is broke, the world is done;
Then lovers they into Elysium run.

Both the Berkeleys, ancestors of Elizabeth, and the Cavendishes, were rewarded by the Stuarts when Charles II was restored to the throne in 1660. The Berkeleys were made earls and the Cavendishes were made dukes.