I travell'd on, seeing the hill, where lay
A long it was and weary way:
The gloomy cave of Desperation
I left on the one, and on the other side
The rock of Pride.
And so I came to Fancy's meadow, strow'd
With many a flower:
Fain would I here have made abode,
But I was quicken'd by my hour.
So to Care's copse I came, and there got through
With much ado.
That led me to the wild of Passion, which
Some call the wold;
A wasted place, but sometimes rich.
Here I was robb'd of all my gold,
Save one good angel6767angel, also a coin, which a friend had tied
Close to my side.
At length I got unto the gladsome hill,
Where lay my hope,
Where lay my heart; and climbing still,
When I had gain'd the brow and top,
A lake of brackish waters on the ground
Was all I found.
With that abash'd and struck with many a sting
Of swarming fears,
I fell and cried, 'Alas, my King,
Can both the way and end be tears?'
Yet taking heart, I rose, and then perceived
I was deceived.
My hill was further: so I flung away,
Yet heard a cry
Just as I went, 'None goes that way
And lives.' 'If that be all,' said I,
After so foul a journey death is fair,
And but a chair6868chair, presumably, a restful litter.'