VIRTUE dwells, so runs the tale, On precipices hard to scale. Swift holy Nymphs attend her place; No mortal eyes may see her face, But only he, who with distress Of soul and sweating heart can press On to the height in manliness. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY FAMILIAR DREAM by PAUL VERLAINE LIGHT [AND LOVE] by FRANCIS WILLIAM BOURDILLON ECHO by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 2 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 2D SERIES: 56 by EDWARD TAYLOR |