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AN ELEGY ON THE GLORY OF HER SEX, MRS. MARY BLAIZE.1

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 wondrous 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.

1 See The Bee, p. 128.

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 twelvemonth more—

She had not died to-day.2

* This poem is an imitation of the chanson, called ' Le fameux la Galisse, homme imaginaire, ' in fifty stanzas, printed in the Menagiana, iv. 191.

'Messieurs, vous plait-il d'ouir

L'air du fameux la Galisse,
Il pourra vous réjouir,

Pourvu qu'il vous divertisse.

* * * *
'Bien instruit dès le berceau

Jamais, tant il fut honnête,
Il se mettoit son chapeau
Qu'il ne se couvrit la tête.

• * * •
'On dit que dans ses amours

11 fut caressé des belles, Qui le suivirent toujours,

Tant qu'il marche devant elles.

• • • •
'II fut par un triste sort,

Blessé d'une main cruelle;
On croit, puisqu'il est mort,
Que la plaie était mortelle.

'Regretté de ses soldats,

Il mourut digne d'envie,
Et le jour de son trépas

Fut le dernier de sa vie.*

A SONNET.1

Weeping, murmuring, complaining, Lost to every gay delight;Myra, too sincere for feigning,

Fears th' approaching bridal night.

Yet why impair thy bright perfection?

Or dim thy beauty with a tear?
Had Myra follow'd my direction,

She long had wanted cause of fear.

SONG.

UtOM THE ORATORIO OF THE CAPTIVITY.

The wretch, condemn'd with life to part,

Still, still on hope relies;
And every pang that rends the heart,

Bids expectation rise.

Hope, like the glimmering taper's light,
Adorns and cheers the way;

And still, as darker grows the night,
Emits a brighter ray.

1 See The Bee, p. 94.

SONG.

O Memory! thou fond deceiver,

Still importunate and vain, To former joys, recurring ever,

And turning all the past to pain;

Thou, like the world, the opprest oppressing,
Thy smiles increase the wretch's woe!

And he who wants each other blessing,
In thee must ever find a foe.

A PROLOGUE WRITTEN AND SPOKEN BY THE POET LABERIUS,

A ROMAN KNIGHT, WHOM CESAR FORCED UPON THE STAGE.
PRESERVED BY MACROBIOS.1

What! no way left to shun th' inglorious stage,
And save from infamy my sinking age!
Scarce half alive, oppress'd with many a year,
What in the name of dotage drives me here?
A time there was, when glory was my guide,
Nor force nor fraud could turn my steps aside;
Unaw'd by power, and unappal'd by fear,
With honest thrift I held my honour dear:
But this vile hour disperses all my store,
And all my hoard of honour is no more;
For ah! too partial to my life's decline,
Caesar persuades, submission must be mine;
Him I obey, whom heaven itself obeys,
Hopeless of pleasing, yet inclin'd to please.
Here then at once I welcome every shame,
And cancel at threescore a life of fame;

1 This translation was first printed in one of our Author's earliest works, ' The Present State of Learning in Europe,' 12mo. 1759.

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