Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE DYING PROSTITUTE; AN ELEGY, by THOMAS HOLCROFT



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE DYING PROSTITUTE; AN ELEGY, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Weep o'er the miseries of a wretched maid
Last Line: Or bloom thy laurels o'er my winding-sheet?
Subject(s): Death; Prostitution; Dead, The; Harlots; Whores; Brothels


WEEP o'er the mis'ries of a wretched maid,
Who sacrificed to man her health and fame;
Whose love, and truth, and trust were all repaid
By want and woe, disease and endless shame.

Curse not the poor lost wretch, who ev'ry ill
That proud unfeeling man can heap sustains;
Sure she enough is cursed o'er whom his will,
Enflamed by brutal passion, boundless reigns.

Spurn not my fainting body from your door,
Here let me rest my weary weeping head;
No greater mercy would my wants implore,
My sorrows soon shall lay me with the dead.

Who now beholds, but loathes my faded face,
So wan and sallow, changed with sin and care?
Or who can any former beauty trace
In eyes so sunk with famine and despair?

That I was virtuous once, and beauteous too,
And free from envious tongues my spotless fame:
These but torment, these but my tears renew,
These aggravate my present guilt and shame.

Expelled by all, enforced by pining want,
I've wept and wandered many a midnight hour;
Implored a pittance Lust would seldom grant,
Or sought a shelter from the driving show'r.

Oft as I roved, while beat the wintry storm,
Unknowing what to seek, or where to stray,
To gain relief, enticed each hideous form;
Each hideous form contemptuous turned away.

Where were my virgin honours, virgin charms?
Oh! whither fled the pride I once maintained?
Or where the youths that wooed me to their arms?
Or where the triumphs which my beauty gained?

Ah! say, insidious Damon! Monster! where?
What glory hast thou gained by my defeat?
Art thou more happy for that I'm less fair?
Or bloom thy laurels o'er my winding-sheet?





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