Climb sky-crown’d rocks—o’erpace the burning plain,
Just when his soul despairs—his spirits faint,
Achieves the threshold of his long-sought Saint:
The desert’s danger—storms and ruffian-bands—
All sink forgotten as the shrine expands—
Feet cure their toil that touch the hallow’d floors—
He rests his staff—kneels, trembles, and adores!
Exeunt Omnes.