| |
| 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, | 5 |
| 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, | 10 |
| 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, | 15 |
| 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. | 20 |
| |
| Now, thank our stars! those 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, | 25 |
| 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 |
| 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, | 35 |
| With bloody armaments and revolutions; | |
| Let Majesty your first attention summon, | |
| Ah! ça ira! THE MAJESTY OF WOMAN! | |
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