Not that where some one merit is deny'd,
Men must be ev'ry way unqualify'd;
Nor hold we, like that wrong-concluding wight,
A man can't fish — because he cou'd not write.
View all the world around: each man design'd
And furnish'd for some fav'rite part you find.
That, sometimes low: yet this, so small a gift,
Proves nature did not turn him quite adrift.
The phlegmatick, dull, aukward, thick, gross-witted,
Have all some clumsy work for which they're fitted.
'Twas never known, in men a perfect void,
Ev'n I and T—ld might be well employ'd;
Wou'd we our poverty of parts survey,
And follow as our genius led the way.