AN ELEGY ON THAT GLORY OF HER SEX,

GOOD people all, with one accord,

Lament for Madam BLAIZE,

Who never wanted a good word —

‘ From those who spoke her praise’.

The needy seldom pass'd her door,

And always found her kind;

She freely lent to all the poor,—

‘ Who left a pledge behind’.

She strove the neighbourhood to please,

With manners wond'rous winning,

And never follow'd wicked ways,—

‘ Unless when she was sinning’.

At church, in silks and satins new,

With hoop of monstrous size,

She never slumber'd in her pew,—

‘ But when she shut her eyes’.

Her love was sought, I do aver,

By twenty beaux and more;

The king himself has follow'd her,—

‘ When she has walk'd before’.

But now her wealth and finery fled,

Her hangers-on cut short all;

The doctors found, when she was dead,—

‘ Her last disorder mortal’.

Let us lament, in sorrow sore,

For Kent-street well may say,

That had she liv'd a twelve-month more,—

‘ She had not died to-day’.