AN ELEGYON THAT GLORY OF HER SEX, MRS. MARY BLAIZE.
AN ELEGYON THAT GLORY OF HER SEX, MRS. MARY BLAIZE.
AN ELEGYON THAT GLORY OF HER SEX, MRS. MARY BLAIZE.
Good people all, with one accord,Lament for Madam Blaize,Who never wanted a goodword—From those who spoke her praise.The needy seldom pass’d her door,And always found her kind;She freely lent to all thepoor—Who left a pledge behind.She strove the neighbourhood to please,With manners wondrous winning,And never follow’d wickedways—Unless when she was sinning.At church, in silks and satins new,With hoop of monstrous size,She never slumber’d in herpew—But when she shut her eyes.Her love was sought, I do aver,By twenty beaux and more;The king himself has follow’dher—When she has walk’d before.But now, her wealth and finery fled,Her hangers-on cut short all;The doctors found, when she wasdead—Her last disorder mortal.Let us lament, in sorrow sore,For Kent Street well may say,That, had she liv’d a twelvemonthmore—She had not died to-day.
Good people all, with one accord,Lament for Madam Blaize,Who never wanted a goodword—From those who spoke her praise.The needy seldom pass’d her door,And always found her kind;She freely lent to all thepoor—Who left a pledge behind.She strove the neighbourhood to please,With manners wondrous winning,And never follow’d wickedways—Unless when she was sinning.At church, in silks and satins new,With hoop of monstrous size,She never slumber’d in herpew—But when she shut her eyes.Her love was sought, I do aver,By twenty beaux and more;The king himself has follow’dher—When she has walk’d before.But now, her wealth and finery fled,Her hangers-on cut short all;The doctors found, when she wasdead—Her last disorder mortal.Let us lament, in sorrow sore,For Kent Street well may say,That, had she liv’d a twelvemonthmore—She had not died to-day.
Good people all, with one accord,Lament for Madam Blaize,Who never wanted a goodword—From those who spoke her praise.
The needy seldom pass’d her door,And always found her kind;She freely lent to all thepoor—Who left a pledge behind.
She strove the neighbourhood to please,With manners wondrous winning,And never follow’d wickedways—Unless when she was sinning.
At church, in silks and satins new,With hoop of monstrous size,She never slumber’d in herpew—But when she shut her eyes.
Her love was sought, I do aver,By twenty beaux and more;The king himself has follow’dher—When she has walk’d before.
But now, her wealth and finery fled,Her hangers-on cut short all;The doctors found, when she wasdead—Her last disorder mortal.
Let us lament, in sorrow sore,For Kent Street well may say,That, had she liv’d a twelvemonthmore—She had not died to-day.