Poems (Lewis)/Hope and Fear
HOPE AND FEAR.
Two Pilgrims, Hope and Fear, agreed,To Pleasure's Altar They'd proceed,And sacrifice together;Fair Hope was young; but Fear was old,And drooped with heat, and shrunk with cold,While Hope still praised the weather.
Quoth Fear, "I guess, ere long 'twill rain!"——"And then," said Hope, "'twill clear again."————"Yon rock, so steep and frightful,To climb," said Fear, "'twere vain to try!"——"Oh! yes, we will," was Hope's reply;"The view must be delightful!"—
—"I'm sure," said Fear, "we've missed the way,And ne'er shall reach the shrine to-day;My strength, my spirits falter!"——" On! On!" said Hope, "I know, we're right!—"And oft mistook the Northern LightFor lamps on Pleasure's Altar!
At length they reached the blooming FaneIn spite of danger, toil, and pain,Rough ways, and stormy weather;When lo! From Pleasure's torch there cameA flash of roseate fire, whose flameKilled Hope and Fear together.
Hope, while she lived, was well beloved;Yet when she died, no soul was movedTo feel one hour's depression,All thought her place so well suppliedBy mild Content's cœlestial Bride,Whom Mortals call—"Possession!"—