And should it eke come on to rain,
Thy pleasure would be turn’d to pain;
But when the golden sunbeams smile
On ruin’d nave and barren aisle,
When noontide rays enlivening fall
On thirstly floor and weedy wall.
So that thou need’st not break thy bones
Or shins against the rugged stones,
Then go, but take a trusty guide
Who knows the country far and wide,