Who would true valour see, Let him come hither; One here will constant be, Come wind, come weather; There's no discouragement Shall make him once relent His first avowed intent To be a pilgrim. Whoso beset him round With dismal stories, Do but themselves confound; His strength the more is. No lion can him fright, He'll with a giant fight, But he will have a right To be a pilgrim. Hobgoblin nor foul fiend Can daunt his spirit; He knows he at the end Shall life inherit. Then fancies fly away, He'll not fear what men say; He'll labour night and day To be a pilgrim. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A GAGE D'AMOUR by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON THE WIRES by ALEXANDER ANDERSON SPANISH WINGS: SENORITA by H. BABCOCK THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 68. THE THREE AGES OF WOMAN: 3 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT POEM TO NEGRO AND WHITES by MAXWELL BODENHEIM |