Robert Burns put it beautifully....
O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!
It wad frae mony a blunder free us,
An' foolish notion:
Being born and raised a Scot and since learning and memorising that Rabbie Burns poem at school ( among many others) ... the simple line ''O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!'' ...is often at the forefront of my mind even 45 years or more after leaving school , whenver I'm tempted to mock another in real life!!
The line comes from the last verse of ''to a Louse'' written by Burns, when he notices a louse on a lady's hat, and in the poem he chastises the louse for having the temerity to dare land on something or someone of higher status than itself...then further in the poem Burns relates that the louse wouldn't realise that it was a lesser mortal than any other living thing.. and therefore everyone is equal, and no-one has the right to decry anyone else without accepting that we can all be viewed differently by others than we view ourselves
For anyone interested...
Ha! whare ye gaun, ye crowlan ferlie!
Your impudence protects you sairly:
I canna say but ye strunt rarely,
Owre
gawze and
lace;
Tho’ faith, I fear ye dine but sparely,
On sic a place.
Ye ugly, creepan, blastet wonner,
Detested, shunn’d, by saunt an’ sinner,
How daur ye set your fit upon her,
Sae fine a
Lady!
Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner,
On some poor body.
Swith, in some beggar’s haffet squattle;
There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle,
Wi’ ither kindred, jumping cattle,
In shoals and nations;
Whare
horn nor
bane ne’er daur unsettle,
Your thick plantations.
Now haud you there, ye’re out o’ sight,
Below the fatt’rels, snug and tight,
Na faith ye yet! ye’ll no be right,
Till ye’ve got on it,
The vera topmost, towrin height
O’
Miss’s bonnet.
My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out,
As plump an’ gray as onie grozet:
O for some rank, mercurial rozet,
Or fell, red smeddum,
I’d gie you sic a hearty dose o’t,
Wad dress your droddum!
I wad na been surpriz’d to spy
You on an auld wife’s
flainen toy;
Or aiblins some bit duddie boy,
On ’s
wylecoat;
But Miss’s fine
Lunardi, fye!
How daur ye do ’t?
O Jenny dinna toss your head,
An’ set your beauties a’ abread!
Ye little ken what cursed speed
The blastie’s makin!
Thae
winks and
finger-ends, I dread,
Are notice takin!
O wad some Pow’r the giftie gie us
To see oursels as others see us!
It wad frae monie a blunder free us
An’ foolish notion:
What airs in dress an’ gait wad lea’e us,
And ev’n Devotion!
