THE PILGRIM. Ann Radcliffe (née Ward) Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. Radcliffe, Ann Ward, 1764-1823. The Poems of Mrs. Ann Radcliffe. London printed by and for J. Smith, Princes Street 1816 pp. 65-66. 118p. [Radcliffe's poems only, pp. 1-95]

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THE PILGRIM . Slow o'er the Apennine , with bleeding feet , A patient Pilgrim wound his lonely way , To deck the Lady of Loretto's seat With all the little wealth his zeal could pay . From mountain-tops cold died the ev'ning ray , And , stretch'd in twilight , slept the vale below ; And now the last , last purple streaks of day Along the melancholy West fade slow . High o'er his head , the restless pines complain , As on their summit rolls the breeze of night ; Beneath , the hoarse stream chides the rocks in vain : The Pilgrim pauses on the dizzy height . Then to the vale his cautious step he prest , For there a hermit's cross was dimly seen , Cresting the rock , and there his limbs might rest , Cheer'd in the good man's cave , by faggot's sheen , On leafy beds , nor guile his sleep molest . Unhappy Luke ! he trusts a treacherous clue ! Behind the cliff the lurking robber stood ; No friendly moon his giant shadow threw Athwart the road , to save the Pilgrim's blood ; On as he went a vesper-hymn he sang , The hymn , that nightly sooth'd him to repose . Fierce on his harmless prey the ruffian sprang ! The Pilgrim bleeds to death , his eye-lids close , Yet his meek spirit knew no vengeful care , But , dying , for his murd'rer breath'd — a sainted pray'r !