Except good sense and social glee, I marked nought uncommon. I watch'd the symptoms o' the great, The feint a pride, nae pride had he, Mair than an honest ploughman. Then from his lordship I shall learn, For he but meets a brother. 30 40 THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN. PROLOGUE SPOKEN BY MISS FONTENELLE ON HER BENEFIT NIGHT.* HILE 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; Burns sent this Prologue to Miss Fontenelle, with the following letter: 66 Madam,-In such a bad world as ours, those who add to Amid the mighty fuss, just let me mention, VAR. claim some small. 10 the scanty sum of our pleasures, are positively our benefactors. To you, Madam, on our humble Dumfries boards, I have been more indebted for entertainment than ever I was in prouder Theatres. Your charms as a woman would insure applause to the most indifferent Actress, and your theatrical talents would secure admiration to the plainest figure. This, Madam, is not the unmeaning, or insidious compliment of the frivolous or interested; I pay it from the same honest impulse that the sublime of Nature excites my admiration, or her beauties give me delight. "Will the foregoing lines be of any service to you on your approaching benefit night? If they will, I shall be prouder of my Muse than ever. They are nearly extempore: I know they have no great merit; but though they shall add but little to the entertainment of the evening, they give me the happiness of an opportunity to declare how much I have the honor to be," &c. On forwarding a copy to Mrs. Dunlop, in Dunbar, 1792, he said, "We in this country here have many alarms of the reforming, or rather, the republican spirit, of your part of the kingdom. Indeed, we are a good deal in commotion ourselves. For me, I am a placeman, you know; a very humble one indeed, Heaven knows, but still so much so as to gag me. What my private sentiments are you will find out without an interpreter. "I have been taking up the subject in another view; and the other day, for a pretty actress's benefit-night, I wrote an address, which I will give on the other page, called, 'The Rights of Woman.'' 66 According to Mr. Allan Cunningham, Miss Fontenelle was young and pretty, and indulgent in levities both of speech and action." Sunk on the earth, defac'd its lovely form, 20 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.- 30 Sighs, tears, smiles, glances, fits, flirtations, airs, 'Gainst such an host what flinty savage daresWhen awful Beauty joins with all her charms, Who is so rash as rise in rebel arms? Then truce with kings, and truce with consti- With bloody armaments and revolutions! VAR. 2 idle. 3 Got drunk, would swagger, swear. 5 And thence. 4 Must fall before. * An ironical allusion to the Saturnalia of the Caledonian Hunt. ADDRESS, SPOKEN BY MISS FONTENELLE, ON HER BENEFIT-NIGHT, DECEMBER 4, 1795, AT THE THEATRE, DUMFRIES. TILL anxious to secure your partial favour, And not less anxious, sure, this night, than ever, A Prologue, Epilogue, or some such matter, "Twould vamp my bill, said I, if nothing better; So sought a Poet, roosted near the skies, Told him I came to feast my curious eyes; Said, nothing like his works was ever printed; And last, my Prologue-business slily hinted. "Ma'am, let me tell you," quoth my man of rhymes, 11 "I know your bent-these are no laughing times: And so, your servant! gloomy Master Poet! 20 Firm as my creed, Sirs, 'tis my fixed belief, That Misery's another word for Grief; I also think-so may I be a bride! That so much laughter, so much life enjoy'd. Thou man of crazy care and ceaseless sigh, Still under bleak Misfortune's blasting eye; Doom'd to that sorest task of man aliveTo make three guineas do the work of five: Laugh in Misfortune's face-the beldam witch! 30 Say, you'll be merry, tho' you can't be rich. Thou other man of care, the wretch in love, Who long with jiltish arts and airs hast strove; Who, as the boughs all temptingly project, Measur'st in desperate thought a rope-thy neck Or, where the beetling cliff o'erhangs the deep, 40 |