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Poem by David Sillar

Epistle to J**N G****E, a Famous Theologist and Astronomer

O thou far famd Heresiarch,
What tempted you tae try sic wark? 
Against the L  ds ain fock ye bark,
	An sae they ve curst you,
Cause, Raven-like, you fled the Ark
	Wherein they nurst you,

Wad it no been a better gaet, 
To ve bidden by your former state,
Wi faith confirmd in stubborn fate,
	An jogged on,
An no hae turnd your crazy pate,
	As ye hae done ?

Your metaphors an allegories, 
Wi a your new invented stories, 
Hae gard the feck o a the Tories,
	An evn some Whigs 
Doubt if that certain fock before us
	Wore hair or wigs.

An then ye hae sae mony plots, 
Wi Customhouses, Towrs an Boats,1  
That frae the South tae Johny Grots,
	Thro Scotlan braid, 
Great heaps hae coosten aff their coats,
	Tae save their trade.

But then ye yockt them tooth an nail, 
An took, the auld beast by the tail, 
An swang him roun you like a flail,
	Tae mak him yeil; 
But being tough, he scornd tae fail,
	Sae keept the fiel.

He then roard out a hew an cry, 
That a the hirsle neerhan by 
Wad muster up fu speedily,
	An see him rightet; 
Some gade, some ran, an some did fly,
	An some were frightet,

But then ye gied them siccan blatters, 
Wad driven weaker beasts tae tatters;   
Yet Deil-ma-care, in siccan matters,
	Not a your powr 
Could get them steeked i your fetters
	Ae single hour.

Howt fy man! its no worth a groat, 
For ane like you tae cast your coat
An raise your passions boilin hot.
	For Devil hait; 
Let evry ane fill their am lot,
	An gang their gaet.

Ye ken that yours is countin stars,
Twixt Saturn, Mercury an Mars;
Ye ken their greements an their wars
	A sae exact,
When Suns or Planets hae their jars.
	Or order break.

O wad ye publish an lets see 
What kin o proofs ye hae tae gie: 
It wad surprise mae fock than me,
	If ye wad clear 
Frae errors art astronomy,
	In this our sphere.

Be cautious then an persevere; 
Frae blunders carefully keep clear, 
Then howeer rapidly ye steer
	Wi boundless view,
Secure o facts ye needna fear;
	Sae frien adieu.

1 - See Goldies Gospel Recovered. 

David Sillar

David Sillar's other poems:
  1. Epistle to the Critics
  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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