ow'ry spot,
for which they oil'd nor swat;
they drink the sweet ahe fat,
but care or pain;
and haply eye the barren hut
with high disdain.
with steady aim, some fortune chase;
keen hope does ev'ry sinew brace;
thro' fair, thro' foul, they urge the race,
an' seize the prey:
then ie, in some cozie pce,
they close the day.
and others, like your humble servan',
phts! nae rules nor roads observin,
tht or left eternal swervin,
they zig-zag on;
till, curst with age, obscure an' starvin,
they aften groan
Epistle To James Smith(7/11)