VIRTUE dwells, so runs the tale, On precipices hard to scale. Swift holy Nymphs attend her place; No mortal eyes may see her face, But only he, who with distress Of soul and sweating heart can press On to the height in manliness. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FIVE KERNELS OF CORN [APRIL, 1622] by HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH DOUGLAS, DOUGLAS, TENDER AND TRUE by DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK MADRIGAL by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN WHEN KREISLER PLAYS by FRANCES BARTLETT ON CHLORIS BEING ILL by ROBERT BURNS |