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 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 angel [67] , 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 chair [68] .' Footnotes: [67] angel, also a coin [68] chair, presumably, a restful litter |