Classic Poem

Dear vent'rous Book, e'en take thy Will,
And scowp around the Warld thy fill:
Wow! ye're newfangle to be seen,
In guilded Turky clade, and clean.
Daft giddy Thing! to dare thy Fate,
And spang o'er Dikes that scar the blate:
But mind when anes ye're to the Bent,
(Altho in vain) ye may repent.
Alake, I'm flied thou aften meet,
A Gang that will thee sourly treat,
And ca' thee dull for a' thy Pains,
When Damps distress their drouzie Brains.
I dinna doubt whilst thou art new,
Thou'lt Favour find frae not a few,
But when thou'rt rufl'd and forfairn,
Sair thumb'd by ilka Coof or Bairn;
Then, then by Age, ye may grow wise,
And ken things common gies nae Price.
I'd fret, waes me! to see thee lye
Beneath the Bottom of a Pye,
Or cowd out Page by Page to wrap
Up Snuff, or Sweeties in a Shap.

Away sic Fears, gae spread my Fame,
And fix me an immortal Name;
Ages to come shall thee revive,
And gar thee with new Honours live.
The future Criticks I forsee
Shall have their Notes on Notes on thee:
The Wits unborn shall Beauties find
That never enter'd in my Mind.

Now when thou tells how I was bred,
But hough enough to a mean Trade;
To ballance that, pray let them ken
My Saul to higher Pitch coud sten:
And when ye shaw I'm scarce of Gear,
Gar a' my Virtues shine mair clear.
Tell, I the best and fairest please,
A little Man that loos me Ease,
And never thole these Passions lang
That rudely mint to do me wrang.

Gin ony want to ken my Age,
See Anno Dom . on Title Page;
This Year when Springs by Care and Skill
The spacious leaden Conduits fill,
And first flowd up the Castle-hill .
When South-Sea Projects cease to thrive,
And only North-Sea seems alive,
Tell them your Author's Thirty five.