O Langtry, wilt thou gang wi’ me, On lime-lit boards to win renown? Can crowded stalls have charms for thee―― The painted scene and tinsel crown? No more mere Photo’ed-Beauty’s Queen, No more restrained to Park and Square, Say, canst thou quit Belgravia’s scene, Where thou art fairest of the fair? O Langtry, when ’tis thine to play “Big parts,” their “keeping” keep in mind; Though Beauty’s charming in its way, In acting “there is more behind.” Some say, so stately is thy mien, High tragic _rôles_ thou well could’st bear; Let’s hope as Genius thou’lt be seen, As well as fairest of the fair. O Langtry, canst thou act so true, Through long and trying scenes to go, Not pleased by Flattery’s smooth review, Nor grieved when critics “slate” the “show?” As yet, they don’t agree at all What praise or blame shall be thy share; And critics, whether great or small, Are _not_ the _fairest_ of the fair. And when at last thy Muse shall try _Ophelia_, _Juliet_, _Queen Macbeth_, Say, canst thou make thy audience cry, Or, scared and spellbound, hold their breath? And wilt thou from thy handsome pay, Of poorer players take due care? If so, then _still_ the world will say That thou art fairest of the fair. ――――:o:―――― ROBIN ADAIR. When General Dumourier, after unparalleled victories, deserted the army of the French Republic, in 1793, and took refuge from the infuriated Convention with the enemies he had lately beaten, someone expressed joy in the event where Burns was present, when he chanted, almost extempore, the following sarcastic stanzas:―― ON GENERAL DUMOURIER. _A Parody on Robin Adair._ You’re welcome to Despots, Dumourier; You’re welcome to Despots, Dumourier, How does Dampiere do? Ay and Bournonville too? Why did they not come along with you, Dumourier? I will light France with you, Dumourier; I will fight France with you, Dumourier. I will fight France with you; I will take my chance with you; By my soul I’ll have a dance with you, Dumourier. Then let us fight about, Dumourier; Then let us fight about, Dumourier: Then let us fight about, Till Freedom’s spark is out, Then we’ll be damn’d, no doubt――Dumourier. ――――:o:―――― A SONG. Tune――“_Robin Adair._” Hark! to yon glorious shout, Canning, O rare! Echo proclaims it out, Canning, Huzza! Beauty, each step you see, Displaying loyalty, Whose charms keep Britons free, Canning, Huzza!