When a man has once resolved
On a course with risk involved,
He accepts what Fortune sends,
Not complaining though he spends
Years of life or life indeed
In endeavor to succeed.

Every desperate chance he takes,
Still toward his goal he makes:
Through the jungle tiger-haunted,
Cobra-slimy, death-enchanted,
With the upas-poisoned damps
Lighted with miasmic lamps;
Or through wastes where water lacks
And with thirst the salt ground cracks,
Where neath fierce unclouded suns
Gleam the ghastly skeletons
Of adventurers treasure-lured
Hellward by Hell's treasure-steward,
Crossing ocean's chartless tracts,
Forcing mist-wreathed cataracts;

Undisturbed by Nature's wrath,
Who would hurl him from his path;
Bearing hardships night and day;
Slaying lest the foeman slay,
Still he holds his courage firm
Through his quest's unmeasured term.

Round the campfire's blazing cheer
Sound the old songs ever dear
Of the distant homeland. Trials,
Dangers, cruel self-denials,
Sufferings, torments, cannot quell
Joy which comes from battling well.
And when all the course is run,
When the battle has been won,
When the conquest and its glory
Live again in graphic story,
Can there ever be regret
At the difficulties met?
No, the worse the burdens borne
Richer is the quest crown worn!