Sir Walter Raleigh (1554?–1618)

GIVE 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)

And thus I’ll take my pilgrimage.

Blood must be my body’s balmer,

Whilst my soul, like a quiet Palmer,

Travelleth towards the land of Heaven;

No other balm will there he given.

Over the silver mountains

Where spring the nectar fountains,

There will I kiss

The bowl of bliss,

And drink mine everlasting fill,

Upon every milken hill;

My soul will be a-dry before,

But after, it will thirst no more.