E T J S h（1 / 4）

epistle to jas sith

friendship, ysterio cent of the ul!

sweet&039;ner of life, and lder of ciety!

i owe thee uch—bir

dear sith, the slee&039;st, pawkie thief,

that e&039;er attepted stealth or rief!

ye surely hae warlock-brief

owre huan hearts;

for ne&039;er a bo yet was prief

agast your arts

for , i swear by sun an&039; oon,

an&039; ev&039;ry star that blks aboon,

ye&039;ve st enty pair o&039; shoon,

jt gaun to see you;

an&039; ev&039;ry ither pair that&039;s done,

air taen i&039; wi&039; you

that auld, capricio carl, nature,

to ak ands for scripit stature,

she&039;s turn&039;d you off, a huan creature

on her first pn,

and her freaks, on ev&039;ry feature

she&039;s wrote the an

jt now i&039;ve ta&039;en the fit o&039; rhy,

y barie noddle&039;s workg pri

y fancy yerkit up subli,

wi&039; hasty suon;

hae ye a leisure-ont&039;s ti

to hear what&039;s ?

rhy a neibor&039;s na to sh;

rhy (va thought!) for needfu&039; cash;

rhy to urt the untra csh,

an&039; raise a d;

for , an ai i never fash;

i rhy for fun

the star that rules y ckless lot,

has fated the rset at,

an&039; dan&039;d y fortune to the groat;

but, reit,

has blest with a rando-shot

o&039;untra wit

this while y notion&039;s taen a sklent,

to try y fate guid, bck prent;

but still the air i&039; that way bent,

thg cries “hooklie!”

i red you, honest an, tak tent?

ye&039;ll shaw your folly;

“there&039;s ither poets, uch your betters,

far seen greek, deep n o&039; letters,

hae thought they had ensur&039;d their debtors,

a&039; future as;

now oths defor, shapeless tatters,

their unknown pas”

then farewell hopes of urel-boughs,

to garnd y poeti