Odes 2.10 (Martin): Rectius Vives

If thou wouldst live secure and free,
Thou wilt not keep far out at sea,
Licinius, evermore;
Nor, fearful of the gales that sweep
The ocean wide, too closely creep
Along the treacherous shore.

The man, who with a soul serene
Doth cultivate the golden mean,
Escapes alike from all
The squalor of a sordid cot,
And from the jealousies begot
By wealth in lordly hall.

The mighty pine is ever most
By wild winds sway'd about and toss'd,
With most disastrous crash
Fall high-topp'd towers, and ever, where
The mountain's summit points in air.
Do bolted Lightning's flash.

When fortune frowns, a well-train'd mind
Will hope for change; when she is kind,
A change no less will fear:
If haggard winters o'er the land
By Jove are spread, at his command
In time they disappear.

Though now they may, be sure of this,
Things will not always go amiss;
Not always bends in ire
Apollo his dread bow, but takes
The lyre and from her trance awakes
The Muse with touch of fire.

Though sorrows strike, and comrades shrink,
Yet never let your spirits sink,
But to yourself be true;
So wisely, when yourself you find
Scudding before too fair a wind,
Take in a reef or two.