Not that broad path chose he, which whoso wills
May tread, if he by pay the fatal price,
And for such sweet as earthly life extils,
Slaughter his heaven-born soul in sacrifice.

But he, though loving these, cast yet with strong
Hands all aside, and took the obscure way,
Which few may find, or finding, follow long,-
O let not weak regrets hinder me, nay,

Health, wealth, fame, friendship, all that I hold dear,
I’ll spend, nor seek return, O what dark crown
Be his, he cares not, who thus gives; how near
May hang yet his lost laurels of renown:

Yea, who dares thus die, haply he may see,
Suddenly, unsought immortality.