Henry Charles Beeching, ed. (1859–1919). Lyra Sacra: A Book of Religious Verse. 1903.
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I TRAVELL’D on, seeing the hill, where lay | |
My expectation. | |
A long it was and weary way. | |
The gloomy cave of Desperation | |
I left on th’ one, and on the other side | 5 |
The rock of Pride. | |
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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. | 10 |
So to Care’s copse I came, and there got through | |
With much ado. | |
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That led me to the wild of Passion, which | |
Some call the wold; 1 | |
A wasted place, but sometimes rich. | 15 |
Here I was robb’d of all my gold, | |
Save one good Angel, which a friend had tied | |
Close to my side. | |
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At length I got unto the gladsome hill, | |
Where lay my hope, | 20 |
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. | |
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With that abash’d and struck with many a sting | 25 |
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: | 30 |
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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, | 35 |
And but a chair. 2 | |