Book II, Metre IV (I. T.): The Golden Mean

Who with an heedful care
Will an eternal seat prepare,
Which cannot be down cast
By force of windy blast,
And will the floods despise,
When threatening billows do arise,
He not on hills must stand,
Nor on the dangerous sinking sand.
For there the winds will threat,
And him with furious tempests beat,
And here the ground too weak
Will with the heavy burden break.
Fly then the dangerous case
Of an untried delightful place,
And thy poor house bestow
In stony places firm and low.
For though the winds do sound,
And waves of troubled seas confound :
Yet thou to rest disposed
In thy safe lowly vale inclosed,
Mayst live a quiet age,
Scorning the air's distempered rage.