Were mine the trusty staff that Jewel gave
To youthful Hooker in familiar style
The gift exalting, and with playful smile.[9]
For thus equipped, and bearing on his head
The donor’s farewell blessing, can he dread
Tempest, or length of way, or weight of toil?
More sweet than odours caught by him who sails
Near spicy shores of Araby the blest;
A thousand times more exquisitely sweet
The freight of holy feeling which we meet