Charlotte Wilson, in _Scribner’s_, writes a song of the pilgrim
who minds not the hardships or fortunes of the road so he but reaches
the goal of the journey:
Ah, little Inn of Sorrow,
What of thy bitter bread?
What of thy ghostly chambers,
So I be shelterèd?
’Tis but for a night, the firelight
That gasps on thy cold hearthstone;
To-morrow my load and the open road
And the far light leading on!
Ah, little Inn of Fortune,
What of thy blazing cheer,
Where glad through the pensive evening
Thy bright doors beckon clear?
Sweet sleep on thy balsam-pillows,
Sweet wine that will thirst assuage--
But send me forth o’er the morning earth
Strong for my pilgrimage!
Ah, distant End of the Journey,
What if thou fly my feet?
What if thou fade before me
In splendor wan and sweet?
Still the mystical city lureth--
The quest is the good knight’s part;
And the pilgrim wends through the end of the ends
Toward a shrine and a Grail in his heart.(Text.)
(2374)
=Pilgrimage=--See JOURNEY TO HEAVEN.
=Pilgrimage, The Mecca=--See MECCA, INFLUENCE OF.