Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 1.djvu/90

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Not he who comes with lanthorn light
Shall guide thy groping pace aright
With faltering feet and slow;
No! let him rear the torch on high
And every maze shall meet thine eye,
And every snare and every foe;
Then with steady step and strong,
Traveller, shalt thou march along.

Tho' Power invite thee to her hall,
Regard not thou her tempting call
Her splendors meteor glare;
Tho' courteons Flattery there await
And Wealth adorn the dome of State,
There stalks the midnight spectre Care;
Peace, Traveller! does not sojourn there.

If Fame allure thee, climb not thou
To that steep mountain's craggy brow
Where stands her stately pile;