Genius Must Be Born, It Can't Be

How Easy 'tis, When Destiny Proves Kind, With Full-spread Sails To Run Before The Wind!

Resolved To Ruin Or To Rule The State.

For Every Inch That Is Not Fool, Is Rogue.

But When To Sin Our Biased Nature Leans, The Careful Devil Is Still At Hand With Means; And Providently Pimps For Ill Desires.

Thou Spring'st A Leak Already In Thy Crown, A Flaw Is In Thy Ill-bak'd Vessel Found; 'tis Hollow, And Returns A Jarring Sound, Yet Thy Moist Clay Is Pliant To Command, Unwrought, And Easy To The Potter's Hand: Now Take The Mould; Now Bend Thy Mind To Feel The First Sharp Motions Of The Forming Wheel.