In ancient days, mankind, dissatisfied
With all the gifts that royal glove supplied,
Went on their marrow-bones, and begged permission
His ears to trouble with a new petition.
Whey vowed the presents of the Thunderer King
Were, with his godship's leave, not quite the thing;
One half the world, (he had made 'em so perverse,)
What t'other called a blessing, thought a curse;
(Their sages had this aphorism set eyes on,
That "What is one Man's meat, 's another's poison;")
Wherefore they begged, an' he should hear their call,
Some gift might be agreeable to all.
Jove cogitated: This is hard, quota he;
In what thing will these clamorous knaves agree?
Whatever their necessities required
I gave, yet something more is still desired.
Vain fools! "What! Vanity? Ay, that will pass:"
And prove presented them a Looking Glass!
Most glorious gift of condescending grace!
Where each one saw that pleasant thing, his face!
Oh! that the Looking Glass we show to night,
With the same spell could give the same delight!
And, where some pleasing lineament is shown,
What each might softly whisper, That's my own!
And where an uglier product of our labour,
With the same readiness, say, That's my neighbour!
No portraits here of ego, tu, nor ille:
Such things, we are told, are criminal and silly:
So, not to increase our follies and our crimes,
We've only made a 'mirror for the times';
Where ye may look, and see such knaves and asses
As, we hope, can't be seen in your own glasses,
Playing before ye certain tricks and capers,
Such as you look for daily in the papers.
Our ware's domestic; if his only clever,
Uncle Sam and his factories forever!
If not, pray say so:there is yet a sure hope,
We'll get our wares, as heretofore, of Europe!
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