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Your News and Review, Sir, I've read through and through, Sir, With little admiring or blaming: The Papers are barren of home-news or foreign, No murders or rapes worth the naming. Our friends the Reviewers, those Chippers and Hewers, Are judges of Mortar and Stone, Sir; But of meet or unmeet, in a Fabric complete, I'll boldly pronounce they are none, Sir. My Goose-quill too rude is to tell all your goodness Bestow'd on your servant, the Poet; Would to God I had one like a beam of the Sun, And then all the World, should know it! Robert Burns
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