Act I, scene 1, lines 141-60 <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Poor old pilgrim Misery, <br />Beneath the silent moon he sate, <br />A-listening to the screech owl's cry, <br />And the cold wind's goblin prate; <br />Beside him lay his staff of yew <br />With withered willow twined, <br />His scant grey hair all wet with dew, <br />His cheeks with grief ybrined; <br /> And his cry it was ever, alack! <br /> Alack, and woe is me. <br /> <br />Anon a wanton imp astray <br />His piteous moaning hears, <br />And from his bosom steals away <br />His rosary of tears: <br />With his plunder fled that urchin elf, <br />And hid it in your eyes, <br />Then tell me back the stolen pelf, <br />Give up the lawless prize; <br /> Or your cry shall be ever, alack! <br /> Alack, and woe is me.<br /><br />Thomas Lovell Beddoes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poor-old-pilgrim-misery-song/
