Before the poem, a lesson in how to die, from Powell and Pressburger's A Matter of Life and Death:
Sir Walter Raleigh. 1552–1618 |
77. His Pilgrimage |
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; | 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 a-dry before; | |
But, after, it will thirst no more. |
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