| I traveled on seeing the hill, where lay
My expectation
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 strowed
With many a flower;
Fain would I here have made abode,
But I was quickened 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 robbed of all my gold,
Save one good Angel, which a friend had tied
Close to my side.
At length I got unto the gladsome
Where lay my hope,
Where lay my heart; and climbing still,
When I had gained the brow and top,
A lake of brackish waters on the ground
Was all I found
With that abashed and struck with many 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 farther,
So I flung away, yet heard a cry,
Just as I went, none goes that way,
And leaves , if that be all, said I,
is fair, and but a chair
after so fall a journey death.
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