Classic Poem

THE SPECTACLES .

A E day when Jove, the high director,
Was merry o'er a bowl of nectar,
Resolv'd a present to bestow
On the inhabitants below.
Momus, wha likes his joke and wine,
Was sent frae heaven with the propine.
Fast thro' the æther fields he whirl'd
His rapid car, and reach'd the warld:
Conven'd mankind, and tald them Jove
Had sent a token of his love;
Considering that they were short-sighted,
That faut shou'd presently be righted.
Syne loos'd his wallet frae the pillions,
And toss'd out spectacles by millions.
There were enow, and ilk ane chose
His pair, and cock'd them on his nose;
And thankfully their knees they bended
To heaven, that thus their sight had mended.
Streight Momus hameward took his flight,
Laughing fou' loud, as well he might.
For ye man ken, 'tis but o'er true,
The glasses were some red, some blue,
Some black, some white, some brown, some green,
Which made the same thing different seem.
Now all was wrong, and all was right,
For ilk believ'd his aided sight,
And did the joys of truth partake,
In the absurdest gross mistake.