Who Would true valour see, Let him come hither; One here will constant be, Come Wind, Come Wather.
There's no discouragenment Shall make hom once relent His first avow'd intent To be a pilgrim. Whose beset him round, With dismal stories Do but themselves confound; His Strength the more is No lion can him fright, He will with a giant fight, But he will have a right to be pilgirm. Hobgoblin, nor foul friend, Can daunt his spirit; He Knows, he at the end Shall life in herit. Then fancies fly away, He'll fear not what men say,
He'll labour night and day To be a pilgrrim.
In the merry month of may, In a morn by break of day, Forth I walked by the wood side, Where as May was in his pride There I Spied all alone Phyllida and Corydon.Ado there was, god wo He Would love and she would not
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