For Art May Err, But Nature Cannot

Genius Must Be Born, And Never Can Be Taught.

I Am Reading Jonson's Verses To The Memory Of Shakespeare; An Insolent, Sparing, And Invidious Panegyric.

In Pious Times, Ere Priest-craft Did Begin, Before Polygamy Was Made A Sin; When Man, On Many, Multipli'd His Kind, Ere One To One Was Cursedly Confin'd: When Nature Prompted, And No Law Deni'd Promiscuous Use Of Concubine And Bride; Then, Israel's Monarch, After Heaven's Own Heart, His Vigorous Warmth Did Variously Impart To Wives And Slaves: And, Wide As His Command, Scatter'd His Maker's Image Through The Land.

My Whole Life Has Been A Golden Dream Of Love And Friendship.

Could Swell The Soul To Rage, Or Kindle Soft Desire.