May couthie fortune, kind and cannie,
In social glee,

Wi' mornings blythe and e'enings funny
Bless them and thee!

Fareweel, auld birkie! Lord be near ye,
And then the Deil he daur na steer ye :
Your friends ay love, your faes ay fear ye.
For me, shame fa' me,

If neist my heart I dinna wear ye

:

While BURNS they ca' me!

John Maxwell of Terraughty and Munshes, to whom these verses are addressed, was one of the most remarkable men of his day. He was descended from the earls of Nithsdale he shared also in the blood of the house of Herries but he cared little about lineage, and claimed merit only from a judgment sound and clear—a knowledge of business which penetrated into all the concerns of life, and a skill in handling the most difficult subjects, which was considered unrivalled. He cared for no one's good word he regarded no one's ill will-flattery and censure were alike lost on him: under an austere manner he hid much kindness of heart, and was in a fair way of doing an act of gentleness when he spoke sternly and peremptorily. He loved to meet Burns; not that he either cared for or comprehended poetry; but he was pleased with his knowledge of human nature, and with the keen and piercing remarks in which he indulged. The laird of Terraughty was seventy-one years old when these verses were written. He survived the Poet twenty years.

THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN.

AN OCCASIONAL ADDRESS SPOKEN BY MISS FONTENELLE ON HER BENEFIT NIGHT.

WHILE Europe's eye is fix'd on mighty things,
The fate of empires and the fall of kings;
While quacks of state must each produce his plan,
And even children lisp the Rights of Man;
Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention,
The Rights of Woman merit some attention.

First, in the sexes' intermixed connexion,
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 man 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-bredMost 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,
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! ca ira! THE MAJ ESTY OF WOMAN!

Miss Fontenelle, for whom these verses were written, was one of Mr. Williamson's actresses; she was young and pretty, and indulged in levities both of speech and

* Ironical allusion to the Saturnalia of the Caledonian Hunt. VOL. III.

Q

action. The Rights of Man had been advocated by Paine; the Rights of Woman had been urged with carnest vehemence by Mary Wolstonecroft, and nothing was talked of but moral and political regeneration. The Poet, with some skill, availed himself of the ruling sentiment of the time, and made the actress claim protection for the merits of tender, helpless woman-protection decorously bestowed, unaccompanied by rudeness. The address, one told me who was present, was well received by the audience; the ironical allusion to the annual Saturnalia of the Caledonian Hunt, was understood, and when reprehended by a solitary hiss or two, was rapturously applauded by pit and galleries.

The public mind was then in a yeasty state, and very easily moved the line

"But truce with kings, and truce with constitutions,"

was caught eagerly up, and had some sharp disapprobation bestowed on it, till the happy turn of the succeeding lines restored harmony.

MONODY,

ON A LADY FAMED FOR HER CAPRICE.

How cold is that bosom which folly once fired, How pale is that cheek where the rouge lately glisten'd!

How silent that tongue which the echoes oft tired, How dull is that ear which to flattery so listen'd!

If sorrow and anguish their exit await,

From friendship and dearest affection remov'd; How doubly severer, Maria, thy fate,

Thou diedst unwept as thou livedst unlov'd.

Loves, Graces, and Virtues, I call not on you;
So shy, grave, and distant, ye shed not a tear :
But come, all ye offspring of Folly so true,

And flowers let us cull for Maria's cold bier.

We'll search through the garden for each silly flower, We'll roam through the forest for each idle weed; But chiefly the nettle, so typical, shower,

For none e'er approach'd her but rued the rash

deed.