The hungry cravings of an empty stomach,
To sleep on bed of straw, in garret high,
As is Parnass, or in the dark abyss
Of cellar, low as Tartarus—To be
The game of sporting critics—Or to die—
To sink in vile obscurity, and rot
Among the senseless rabble—Aye! to drop
Unknown, and unlamented!—Hateful thought!
Detestable oblivion!
To write—to live!——immortal as great Jove!