Genius is of no country; her pure ray Spreads all abroad, as general as the day.
With curious art the brain, too finely wrought, Preys on herself, and is destroyed by thought.
Who often, but without success, have prayed for apt Alliteration's artful aid.
Genius is independent of situation.
On the four aces doom'd to roll.
Greatly his foes he dreads, but more his friends; He hurts me most who lavishly commends.