Goldsmith -

The public all, of one accord,
Lament for Mrs. Blaze;
Who never wanted a good word
From those who spoke her praise.

At church, in silks and satins new,
With hoop of monstrous size
She never slumbered 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 followed her
When she has walked before.

Let us lament in sorrow sore;
For Kent street well may say,
That, had she lived a twelvemonth more,
She had not died to-day.
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