T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
Lamentation for Dorinda
By Matthew Prior (16641721)(From Poems, 1722) FAREWELL ye shady walks, and fountains, | |
Sinking valleys, rising mountains: | |
Farewell ye crystal streams, that pass | |
Thro’ fragrant meads of verdant grass: | |
Farewell ye flowers, sweet and fair, | 5 |
That used to grace Dorinda’s hair: | |
Farewell ye woods, who used to shade | |
The pressing youth, and yielding maid: | |
Farewell ye birds, whose morning song | |
Oft made us know we slept too long: | 10 |
Farewell dear bed, so often prest, | |
So often above others blest, | |
With the kind weight of all her charms, | |
When panting, dying, in my arms. | |
Dorinda’s gone, gone far away, | 15 |
She’s gone, and Strephon cannot stay: | |
By sympathetic ties I find | |
That to Her sphere I am confin’d; | |
My motions still on Her must wait, | |
And what She wills to me is fate. | 20 |
She’s gone, O! hear it all ye bowers, | |
Ye walks, ye fountains, trees, and flowers, | |
For whom you made your earliest show, | |
For whom you took a pride to grow. | |
She’s gone, O! hear ye nightingales, | 25 |
Ye mountains ring it to the vales, | |
And echo to the country round, | |
The mournful, dismal, killing sound: | |
Dorinda’s gone, and Strephon goes, | |
To find with Her his lost repose. | 30 |
But ere I go, O! let me see, | |
That all things mourn Her loss like me: | |
Play, play, no more ye spouting fountains, | |
Rise ye valleys, sink ye mountains; | |
Ye walks, in moss, neglected lie, | 35 |
Ye birds, be mute; ye stream, be dry. | |
Fade, fade, ye flowers, and let the rose | |
No more its blushing buds disclose: | |
Ye spreading beech, and taper fir, | |
Languish away in mourning Her; | 40 |
And never let your friendly shade, | |
The stealth of other Lovers aid. | |
And thou, O! dear, delightful bed, | |
The altar where Her maidenhead, | |
With burning cheeks, and down cast eyes, | 45 |
With panting breasts, and kind replies, | |
And other due solemnity, | |
Was offer’d up to love and me. | |
Hereafter suffer no abuse, | |
Since consecrated to our use, | 50 |
As thou art sacred, don’t profane | |
Thy self with any vulgar stain, | |
But to thy pride be still displayed, | |
The print her lovely limbs have made: | |
See, in a moment, all is chang’d, | 55 |
The flowers shrunk up, the trees disrang’d, | |
And that which wore so sweet a face, | |
Become a horrid, desert place. | |
Nature Her influence withdraws, | |
Th’ effect must follow still the cause, | 60 |
And where Dorinda will reside, | |
Nature must there all gay provide. | |
Decking that happy spot of earth, | |
Like Eden’s-Garden at its birth, | |
To please Her matchless, darling Maid, | 65 |
The wonder of her Forming-Trade; | |
Excelling All who e’er Excelled, | |
And as we ne’er the like beheld, | |
So neither is, nor e’er can be, | |
Her Parallel, or Second She. | 70 |