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The While quacks of State must each produce his plan, Rights of And even children lisp the Rights of Man; Woman Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention,

The Rights of Woman merit some attention.

First, in the sexes' intermix'd connection,
One sacred Right of Woman is protection.-
The tender flower that lifts its head, elate,
Helpless, must fall before the blasts of fate,
Sunk on the earth, defac'd its lovely form,
Unless your shelter ward th' impending storm.

Our second Right-but needless here is caution,
To keep that right inviolate's the fashion;
Each man of sense has it so full before him,
He'd die before he'd wrong it-'tis decorum.—
There was, indeed, in far less polish'd days,
A time, when rough rude men had naughty ways:
Would swagger, swear, get drunk, kick up a riot,
Nay even thus invade a lady's quiet.

Now, thank our stars! these Gothic times are fled;
Now, well-bred men—and you are all well-bred—
Most justly think (and we are much the gainers)
Such conduct neither spirit, wit, nor manners.

For Right the third, our last, our best, our dearest,
That right to fluttering female hearts the nearest ;
Which even the Rights of Kings, in low
prostration,

Most humbly own 'tis dear, dear admiration!
In that blest sphere alone we live and move;
There taste that life of life-immortal love.
Smiles, glances, sighs, tears, fits, flirtations, airs ;
'Gainst such an host what flinty savage dares,

When awful Beauty joins with all her charms-- Miss
Who is so rash as rise in rebel arms?

But truce with kings, and truce with constitutions,
With bloody armaments and revolutions ;
Let Majesty your first attention summon,
Ah! са ira! THE MAJESTY OF WOMAN!

EPIGRAM ON SEEING MISS FON-
TENELLE IN A FAVOURITE
CHARACTER

SWEET naïveté of feature,

Simple, wild, enchanting elf,
Not to thee, but thanks to Nature,
Thou art acting but thyself.

Wert thou awkward, stiff, affected,
Spurning Nature, torturing art,
Loves and Graces all rejected,-

Then indeed thou'd'st act a part.

EXTEMPORE ON SOME COM-
MEMORATIONS OF THOMSON

Dost thou not rise, indignant shade,
And smile wi' spurning scorn,
When they wha wad hae starved thy life,
Thy senseless turf adorn?

They wha about thee mak sic fuss

Now thou art but a name,

Wad seen thee damn'd ere they had spar'd

Ae plack to fill thy wame.

Helpless, alane, thou clamb the brae,
Wi' meikle honest toil,

U

Fontenelle

The thrush's

song

And claught th' unfading garland there-
Thy sair-won, rightful spoil.

And wear it there! and call aloud

This axiom undoubted-
Would thou hae Nobles' patronage?
First learn to live without it!

To whom hae much, more shall be given,
every great man's faith;

Is

But he, the helpless, needful wretch,
Shall lose the mite he hath.

ON

HEARING A THRUSH

SING

IN A MORNING WALK, IN
JANUARY

SING on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough,
Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to thy strain,
See aged Winter, 'mid his surly reign,
At thy blythe carol, clears his furrowed brow.
So in lone Poverty's dominion drear,

Sits meek Content with light, unanxious
heart;

Welcomes the rapid moments, bids them part,
Nor asks if they bring ought to hope or fear.
I thank thee, Author of this opening day!
Thou whose bright sun now gilds yon orient
skies!

Riches denied, thy boon was purer joys—
What wealth could never give nor take away!

Yet come, thou child of poverty and care,
The mite high heav'n bestow'd, that mite with
thee I'll share.

THE TRUE LOYAL NATIVES

YE true "Loyal Natives" attend to my song,
In uproar and riot rejoice the night long;
From Envy and Hatred your core is exempt,
But where is your shield from the darts of Con-
tempt!

ON COMMISSARY GOLDIE'S

BRAINS

LORD, to account who dares thee call,
Or e'er dispute thy pleasure?
Else why, within so thick a wall,
Enclose so poor a treasure?

LINES INSCRIBED IN A LADY'S
POCKET ALMANAC

GRANT me, indulgent Heaven, that I may live,
To see the miscreants feel the pains they give;
Deal Freedom's sacred treasures free as air,
Till Slave and Despot be but things that were.

ON THE COMMEMORATION OF
RODNEY'S VICTORY

INSTEAD of a song, boys, I'll give you a toast;
Here's the memory of those on the Twelfth that
we lost!-

We lost, did I say?-No, by Heav'n, that we found;

For their fame it shall live while the world goes round.

The Loyal Natives

Rodney's The next in succession I'll give you the King! Victory And who would betray him, on high may he

swing!

And here's the grand fabric, our free Constitution,
As built on the base of the great Revolution!
And longer with Politics not to be cramm'd,
Be Anarchy curs'd, and be Tyranny damn'd!
And who would to Liberty e'er prove dis-
loyal,

May his son be a hangman-and he his first
trial!

KING'S ARMS, DUMFRIES, 12th April 1793.

KIRK AND STATE EXCISEMEN

Yɛ men of wit and wealth, why all this sneering 'Gainst poor Excisemen? Give the cause a hearing:

What are your Landlord's rent-rolls?—taxing
ledgers!

What Premiers?— what ev'n Monarchs?
mighty Gaugers?

Nay, what are Priests? (those seeming godly
wise-men,)

What are they, pray, but Spiritual Excisemen!

LINES ON JOHN M'MURDO, ESQ.

BLEST be M'Murdo to his latest day!
No envious cloud o'ercast his evening ray;
No wrinkle, furrow'd by the hand of care,
Nor ever sorrow add one silver hair!

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may no son the father's honour stain, Nor ever daughter give the mother pain!

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