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Poem by David Sillar

Epistle to the Critics

Then know when I these pieces made, 
Was toiling for my daily bread;
A scanty learning I enjoyd,
Sac judge how I hae it employed.
I neer depended for my knowledge
On school, academy, nor college;
I gat my learnin at the flail,
An some I catchd at the plough-tail; 
Amang the brutes I own Im bred, 
Since herding was my native trade.
Some twa-three books I read wi care, 
Which I had borrowd here an there.
The actions an the ways o men, 
I took great pains an care to ken; 
Frae them, their manners, an their looks,
Their words, their actions, an frae books; 
On these for knowledge I relied,
Without anither for my guide.
Latin an Greek I never knew sic,
An sae how can my works be classic?

David Sillar

David Sillar's other poems:
  1. Epistle to J**N G****E, a Famous Theologist and Astronomer
  2. Verses, Occasioned by a Reply to Burns Calf by an Unco Calf
  3. Money Makes the Mare to Go
  4. Song IV
  5. Epistle to R. Burns

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