Horace, Book II. Ode X

We must all live, and we would all live well, But how to do it very few can tell; He sure does best, who a true mean can keep, Nor boldly sails too far into the deep, Nor yet too fearfully creeps near the land, And runs the danger of the rocks and sand, Who to that happy medium can attain, " Who neither seeks for nor despises gain, " Who neither sinks too low, nor aims too high," He shuns th' unwholsome ills of poverty; And is secure from envy, which attends A sumptuous table and a croud of friends. Their treacherous height doth the tall pines expose To the rude blast of every wind that blows: And lofty towers, unfortunately high, Are near their ruin as they 're near the sky; And when they fall, what was their pride before Serves only then t' increase their fall the more. Who wisely governs and directs his mind Never despairs, though Fortune be unkind; He hopes, and though he finds he hop'd in vain, He bears it patiently, and hopes again. And if at last a kinder fate conspires, To heap upon him more than he desires; He then suspects the kindness he enjoys, Takes it with thanks, but with such care employs, As if that Fate, weary of giving more, Would once resume what it bestow'd before. He finds man's life, by an eternal skill, Is temper'd equally with good and ill. Fate shapes our lives, as it divides the years, Hopes are our summer, and our winter's fears; And 'tis by an unerring rule decreed, That this shall that alternately succeed. Therefore, when Fate's unkind, dear friend, be wise, And bear its ills without the least surprize. The more you are oppress'd, bear up the more, Weather the tempest till its rage be o'er. But, if too prosperous and too strong a gale Should rather ruffle than just fill your sail, Lessen it; and let it take but so much wind, As is proportion'd to the course design'd; " For 'tis the greatest part of human skill, " To use good fortune, and to bear our ill."