To Be A Pilgrim

“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 avow’d 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


The fancies fly away

He’ll fear not what men say

He’ll labour night and day

To be a Pilgrim.”


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