And you, the new Childe Roland, what think you,
At heart, behind that bold and fluent tongue?
Lead a Forlorn Hope? Yes, though Death's self flung
Its form of bony shape and grisly hue
Athwart your path! But—is here aught to do
That's worth the venture, when all's said and sung?
"If, at their counsel, I should turn aside
Into that ominous tract which all agree
Hides the Dark Tower? If acquiescingly
I do turn as they've pointed! Neither pride