The Pilgrim's Regress

by C.S. Lewis

Now is the seventh winter since Troy fell, and we Still search beneath unfriendly stars, through every sea And desert isle, for Italy’s retreating strand. But here is kinsman’s country and Acestes’ land; What hinders here to build a city and remain? Oh fatherland, oh household spirits preserved in vain From the enemy, shall no new Troy arise? Shall no New Simois there, re-named for Hector’s memory, flow? Rather, come!—burn with me the boats that work us harm! VIRGIL Through this and through no other fault we fell, Nor, being fallen, bear other pain than this, —Always without hope in desire to dwell. DANTE Some also have wished that the next way to their Father’s house were here that they might be troubled no more with either Hills or Mountains to go over; but the way is the way, and there’s an end. BUNYAN