My brother gave me yours of the third, with an excellent ode to the King
of Prussia. The faults in it I take to be owing to your careless writing
of it; for they are such as cannot be from want of knowledge, as the ode
itself shows. However, as you desire my corrections (which seems to be a
sort of menial office, like a plaisterer, who daubs mortar on a grand
piece of building, designed by a great architect) I give you my labour
for nothing, and choose whether you follow my opinion or no; for I am no
oracle. In my last alterations, in Cowydd Teifi, your line--