ANES Jove, by ae great act of grace,
Wad gratify his humane race,
And ordered Hermes, in his name,
With tout of trumpets to proclaim
A royal lott'ry frae the skies,
Where ilka ticket was a prize.
Nor was there need for ten per cent,
To pay advance for money lent:
Nor brokers nor stockjobbers here
Were thol'd to cheat fowk of their gear.
The first-rate benefits were health,
Pleasures, honours, empire and wealth;
But happy he to whom wad fa'
Wisdom, the highest prize of a'.
Hopes of attaining things the best
Made up the maist feck of the rest.
Now ilka ticket sald with ease,
At altars for a sacrifice.
Jove a' receiv'd: ky, gates and ews,
Moor-cocks, lambs, dows or bawby-rows;
Nor wad debar e'en a poor droll
Wha nought cou'd gi'e but his parole,
Sae kind was he no to exclude
Poor wights for want of wealth or blood.
Even whiles the gods, as record tells,
Bought several tickets for themsells.
When fou', and lots put in the wheel,
Aft were they turn'd to mix them well.
Blind Chance to draw Jove order'd syne,
That nane with reason might repine.
He drew, and Mercury was clark
The number, prize and name to mark.
Now hopes by millions fast came forth,
But seldom prizes of mair worth,
Sic as dominion, wealth and state,
True friends, and lovers fortunate.
Wisdom, at last, the greatest prize,
Comes up. Aloud Clark Hermes crys:
"Number ten thousand! Come, let's see
The person blest." Quoth Pallas: "Me!"
Then a' the gods for blythness sang,
Throw heaven glad acclamations rang,
While mankind grumbling laid the wyte
On them, and ca'd the hale a byte.
"Yes!" cry'd ilk ane with sobing heart,
"Kind Jove has play'd a parent's part,
Wha did this prize to Pallas send,
While we're sneg'd off at the wob end."
SOON to their clamours Jove took tent,
To punish which, to wark he went.
He straight with follies fill'd the wheel.
In wisdom's place they did as well,
For ilka ane wha folly drew,
In their conceit a' sages grew.
Sae thus contented, a' retir'd
And ilka fool himself admir'd.
Yince Jeuve, bi ae gret act o grace,
Wad gratifee his human race,
An ordered Hermes, in his name,
Wi toot o trumpets ti proclaim
A rial lott'ry frae the skies,
Whair ilka ticket wes a prize.
Nor wes thare need for ten per cent,
Ti pey advance for money lent:
Nor brokers nor stockjobbers here
War tholed ti cheat fowk o thair gear.
The first-rett benefits war halth,
Pleisurs, honors, empire an walth;
But happy he tae wham wad faw
Wisdom, the heichest prize of aw.
Howps of attainin things the best
Made up the maist feck o the rest.
Noo ilka ticket sald wi ease,
At altars for a secrifees.
Jeuve aw receiv'd: kye, gates an yowes,
Muir-cocks, lambs, doos or bawby-rows;
Nor wad debar e'en a puir droll
Wha nocht coud gie but his parole,
Sae kind wes he no ti excluid
Puir wichts for want o walth or bluid.
Even whiles the gods, as record tells,
Bocht several tickets for thaimsels.
Whan fou, an lots pit in the wheel,
Aft war thay turned ti mix thaim weel.
Blind Chance ti draw Jeuve ordered syne,
That nane wi reason micht repine.
He drue, an Mercury wes clark
The nummer, prize an name ti mark.
Noo howps bi millions fast cam furth,
But seldom prizes o mair worth,
Sic as dominion, walth an stett,
True freens, an leuvers fortunett.
Wisdom, at last, the gretest prize,
Comes up. Alood Clark Hermes crys:
"Nummer ten thousan! Come, let's see
The person blest." Quoth Pallas: "Me!"
Than aw the gods for blytheness sang,
Throwe heiven gled acclamations rang,
While mankind grummlin laid the wyte
On thaim, an cawed the hyill a byte.
"Yes!" cryd ilk ane wi sabbin hairt,
"Kind Jeuve haes played a paurent's pairt,
Wha did this prize tae Pallas send,
While we're snegged aff at the wob end."
Soon tae thair clamors Jeuve teuk tent,
Ti punish whilk, tae wark he went.
He straucht wi follies filled the wheel.
In wisdom's place thay did as weel,
For ilka ane wha folly drue,
In thair conceit aw sages grue.
Sae thus contented, aw retired
An ilka fuil himsel admired.