For me, a happy medium I observe, For never has it entered in my scheme, To strive for much more silver than may serve To lift me gracefully from each extreme Of thrifty meanness, thriftless pride; I deem The men contemptible that stoop to use The one or other, that delight to seem Too close, or inconsiderate in their views: In error's moonlight maze their way both worthies find. * * * * Yet leave I not the Muses, but the more For this perplexity with them commune, And with the charm of their delicious love Vary my life, and waste the summer noon; Thus pass my hours beguiled; but out of tune The lyre will sometimes be, when trials prove The anxious lyrist: to the country soon Of the sweet Siren shall I hence remove, Yet, as of yore, the land of idlesse, ease, and love. * * * * But how, O how shall I be sure, that here My evil genius, in the change I seek, Is not still sworn against me? this strong fear It is that chills my heart, and renders weak The wish I feel to visit that antique Italian city, whence my eyes derive Such exquisite delight, with tears they speak Of the contrasting griefs my heart that rive; And with them up in arms against me here I strive. O fierce--O rigorous--O remorseless Mars! In diamond tunic garmented, and so Steeled always in the harshness that debars The soul from feeling! wherefore as a foe Force the fond lover evermore to go Onward from strife to strife, o'er land and sea? Exerting all thy power to work me woe, I am so far reduced, that death would be At length a blessed boon, my refuge, fiend, from thee! But my hard fate this blessing does deny; I meet it not in battle; the strong spear, Sharp sword, and piercing arrow pass me by, Yet strike down others in their young career, That I might pine away to see my dear Sweet fruit engrossed by aliens, who deride My vain distress; but whither does my fear And grief transport me, without shame or pride? Whither I dread to think, and grieve to have descried. * * * * But thou who in thy villa, blest with all That heart can wish, look'st on the sweet sea-shore; And, undistracted, listening to the fall And swell of the loud waves that round thee roar, Gatherest to thy already rich scrutoire Fresh living verses for perpetual fame, Rejoice! for fires more beauteous than of yore Were kindled by the Dardan prince, inflame Thy philosophic heart, and light thy laurelled name."