Upon his guilded chariot, led by hours,
With radiant glories darting throw the air,
The Sun, high sprung in his diurnal course,
Shed down a day serenely sweet and fair.
The earth mair beautiful and fertile grew;
The flow'ry fields in rich array,
Smil'd lovely on the beamy day,
Delightful for the eye to view;
Ceres, with her golden hair,
Displaying treasure ilka where,
While useful plenty made her stalks to bow.

A thousand little suns glanc'd on the wave;
Nature appear'd to claim the Sun's respect,
All did sae blyth and beauteously behave.
" Ah! " cry'd the Moon, " too much for him
" ye deck;
" My aking een cannot this glory bear;
" This sun pretends nane in the sky
" Can shine but him, then where am I?
" Soon I the contrary shall clear:
" By ae bauld strake,
" With him I 'll make
" My equal empire in the heaven appear.

" 'Tis I that gives a lustre to the night,
" Then should not I my proper right display,
" And now, even now dart down my silver light?
" I give enough, this Sun gives too much day. "
The project fram'd, pale Cynthia now to shaw
Her shining power, right daftly run
Directly 'tween the earth and Sun.
Unwise design! the warld then saw
Instead of light, the Moon
Brought darkness in at noon,
And without borrowing, had no light at a'.

Thus many empty and imprudent men,
Wha to their ain infirmities are blind,
Rax yont their reach, and this way let us ken
A jealous, weak, and insufficient mind.