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Henry Charles Beeching, ed. (1859–1919). Lyra Sacra: A Book of Religious Verse. 1903.

By Sir Walter Ralegh (1552?–1618)


GIVE 1 me my scallop-shell of Quiet,
  My staff of Faith to walk upon;
My scrip of Joy, immortal diet,
  My bottle of Salvation,
My gown of Glory, hope’s true gage;        5
And thus I’ll take my pilgrimage.
Blood must be my body’s balmer,
  No other balm will there be given;
Whilst my soul, like quiet palmer,
  Travelleth towards the land of heaven;        10
Over the silver mountains,
Where spring the nectar fountains,
        There will I kiss
        The bowl of bliss,
And drink mine everlasting fill        15
Upon every milken hill.
My soul will be adry before;
But after it will thirst no more.
Note 1. The conclusion of Ralegh’s “Pilgrimage,” which may be found in Hannah’s “Courtly Poets,” is here omitted, both because “nectar suckets” and “crystal buckets” are intolerably quaint to us, and also because Ralegh’s indictment of the administration of justice in his day is happily without application to ours. [back]